Ending: An Alternate Sequence to Conclude the Inheritance Cycle
by Hannah Stahlhut
Summary: This begins where Eldest left off, engaging in an alternate storyline, including two new dragons and all the main characters. Join the cast of CP's world as they suffer through a blessing gone wrong and and eagerly anticipate the next Rider. I wrote this after Eldest as a way to conclude the series in an organic way without the Arya/Eragon love story, which always creeped me out.
1. A Blessing Revoked

Chapter 1

Eragon pulled aside the flap of the tent and ducked through. He winced a little at the pain it took just to hunch over like that. The battle, just six days before, had left him very sore despite the strength in his toned muscles.

Inside, a group had already gathered around Nasuada's table. Arya stood proud and upright, as always, with a weary looking Nasuada bent down over a stack of papers next to her. Orrin, the king of Surda, was also present, along with Orik the dwarf. Both wore grim faces to match the occasion. This was an important meeting.

Nasuada looked up from her papers and nodded to Eragon, saying, "Let us begin."

He stood at the table between Orrin and Arya, strictly averting his eyes from the elf maiden and instead directing his attention fully to Nasuada.

"Our victory has come at a cost," she began. "We need to recover and allow healing time for our people—and, above all, we need to gather more men. Plenty across the Empire would join us if given the chance, but we have hidden ourselves so well in past years that they have not been given that chance. I plan to change that. Already, I have people spreading the word of our victory and word of our most powerful ally," she nodded to Eragon. "More will come to our aid."

Eragon reached out and allowed the link between his and Saphira's minds to grow wider so she could listen in on the meeting. She continued helping the group of men bury dead soldiers in the battlefield, but paid attention eagerly to what Eragon was hearing.

"But," Nasuada continued, "we need more than rumors of a new dragon rider. If they see this Rider for themselves, hope will spread faster than we imagine. Does everyone agree that Eragon should show himself in a few remote villages for the purpose of showing our power—or creating the illusion that we have power?"

Everyone understood her reasoning and agreed.

Then Arya spoke, causing Eragon to catch his breath. "If you desire reinforcements, Islanzadi's elven warriors will be arriving soon. She has contacted me recently, reporting their progress. You will have the support of the elves."

Nasuada bowed her head in thanks. "That support will not go unappreciated."

"But what now?" Orik asked gruffly, staring across at Nasuada. He could only see above the table because of the wooden box conveniently placed beneath his feet. "We cannot stay on the damned plain forever. There's no food and it's hardly a pleasant atmosphere."

"You make a good point," she said, "there is no reason to stay here. We need to retreat into Surda. That, of course, depends wholly on Orrin's approval."

Orrin nodded in a way that almost looked indifferent to Eragon.

"Good," Nasuada said. "Then, once the dead are properly buried, which I'm told will happen before dawn tomorrow, we will begin our journey. Are there any other subjects you would like to bring up?" She addressed the whole group.

Eragon spoke up a little sheepishly. "I have something." He had felt foolish after making a promise to his cousin, Roran, and understood how selfish it was, but he wanted to keep it. "I ask for permission to travel Northward to Helgrind with my cousin Roran and retrieve a prisoner from the Ra'zac."

Nasuada's head cocked aside a little and she scowled. Even Arya seemed taken aback at his proposal. "I deny you the permission," Nasuada said simply, moving on to other matters. "Does anyone else have something to say?"

He bit his tongue to keep from asking why she had not allowed it. Saphira, sensing his disappointment, said, Don't seem so surprised. Nasuada is the leader of the Varden and she can't afford to put you in unnecessary danger.

Still, I promised, he said. What will Roran say? He's been pestering me for the last six days about rescuing Katrina. He will be devastated!

He will understand. And if he doesn't, he is a fool. Eragon could feel Saphira snort a blue flame, almost scorching one of the soldiers on duty. Oops… sorry.

Eragon returned his attention to the meeting at hand. Orik was speaking.

"A group of our soldiers have left to properly bury our king and the other fallen dwarves. Soon, I will follow them, along with the remainder of our kind, to witness the crowning of another dwarf king. Depending upon who gets crowned, you could receive either reinforcements or a cold shoulder from us dwarves—I don't mean that disrespectfully, Lady Nasuada, I am jus' telling you." He shrugged, face grim.

"I understand, Orik, and I thank you for your honesty in this matter." Nasuada then turned the conversation to their return into Surda and they decided on an exact route back. She called in a general to have him issue the orders. In the morning, they would begin. Soon after, Trianna the sorceress was brought to discuss finances, and Eragon was dismissed. He had no advice to give in that matter.

Outside the tent, he was approached—more like ambushed—by Roran.

"When are we leaving?" he asked eagerly.

Eragon sighed, looking down a little. "We aren't leaving, brother." Seeing his cousin's disappointed face, he added, "I tried to convince her… but it just doesn't help the Varden for me to rescue Katrina right now. She can't allow me to leave like that just when I'm needed. You must understand…"

Roran's face grew red with frustration, but he nodded. His face was expressionless. "I understand. You have greater obligations than family now."

Eragon watched his cousin leave with a heavy heart. Saphira comforted him with soothing words, but that didn't lift the shadow of guilt that engulfed him. He began to walk between the tents, making way towards his dragon so they could speak in person.

As he rounded a corner, the short figure of Angela the herbalist appeared next to him. "Having a nice time?" She asked. He couldn't be sure, but her voice sounded a little sarcastic.

"Well… I suppose," he lied.

"HOW CAN YOU BE HAVING A NICE TIME WHEN THAT POOR LITTLE GIRL IS IN AGONY OVER YOUR STUPID MISTAKE?" Angela's voice rang out like an alarm in the quiet evening. Mingling soldiers stopped to stare. "YOU PROMISED TO REMOVE THE CURSE AND LET HER GO FREE—BUT no. YOU STROLL ABOUT LIKE IT'S JUST ANOTHER DAY. YOU…" She shouted a few choice words describing Eragon before he could interrupt her.

"Angela!" He exclaimed, "Please…"

"PLEASE WHAT?" she asked, still shouting.

"Please lower your voice. I'll take the curse away—right now if you'll be silent!" He was already guilty for breaking a promise to Roran and couldn't afford to keep another one waiting. Enough time had passed after the battle, so he had enough energy to fulfill that promise.

The eccentric herbalist's face became suddenly pleasant. "Good. Follow me, she's right over here."

He followed her into a large tent decorated with wildflowers. Where the flowers had come from in the harsh plains he didn't know, but they created a lovely scent. Inside, herbs dangled from the ceiling. It made the room look more like a jungle than a tent. Miscellaneous plants were laying about everywhere: on the table and three chairs, over the two cots, and even in the toilet bucket in the back corner. But Eragon's attention was soon diverted from the greenery, for he spotted Elva.

She sat in the center of the room. Her legs were bent and she had her thin arms wrapped tightly around her knees, swaying back and forth in a steady rhythm.

"What is she doing?" Eragon asked Angela in a whisper.

But it wasn't Angela who responded. The young girl stopped swaying and looked up at Eragon, the pale oval on her forehead shining slightly. She laughed an eerie laugh that sounded like a full-grown woman's. "What am I doing? I'm suffering the pains of your… 'blessing.'"

Her words stung him. "You will not suffer much longer. I am here to remove it."

Again, she laughed, causing Eragon to shiver. "It is not that simple. See, I would love to be removed of this burden, but my desires are not relevant. Even now, I sense what you want and I am impelled to give it to you. I cannot allow you to take away this curse because foremost in your mind is destroying the Empire, and my curse can help you with that. Without it, there is no guarantee that I will help you, and therefore, the curse is protecting itself. Willingly, I cannot let you remove it."

He hesitated.

"What are you waiting for, you fool?" Angela said. "She cannot willingly allow you to remove it."

"Willingly…?" Eragon caught her hint. A twinkle in Elva's eyes confirmed his theory and he spoke a sentence in the ancient language, binding her. He then thought for a moment, choosing the appropriate words to remove his blessing.

But, right then, something unexpected happened. The spell he had put on Elva failed and she ran out of the tent, calling behind, "You'll have to try harder than that!"

Startled by the girl's behavior, he followed into the open and cast another binding spell on the girl, this time choosing a more specific one that kept her entire body still. She stopped, and he walked up to her. The silver oval on her forehead burned white and she broke free of the spell once again.

"I have more power than you realize," she said, jumping up. "Every waking moment I am controlled by this spell."

Eragon realized the only way to keep her still. "Slytha!" he said, reaching for magic. The girl's eyes drooped, and he caught her before she hit the ground.

Angela gave him a "get on with it" look, and he bent over the child in his arms. What would she do if the curse was gone? Surely his blessing-gone-wrong had driven her mad. Having seen what she could do, breaking away from his binding spells without uttering a word, Eragon knew she could be dangerous if released. What, then, should I do? He thought.

I know what you're thinking, little one, and we have to release the spell. It is worth the risk just to give her a chance for freedom. Saphira's voice echoed in his head.

Without further hesitation, Eragon put a hand to Elva's forehead and began speaking in the ancient language, pronouncing every word slowly and correctly, as not to mess it up this time.

For many minutes, he continued speaking in a dazed state. A crowd of onlookers gathered in the path, watching with apprehension. Finally, the last word was spoken, and he looked down.

Elva's eyelids flew open, revealing deep green eyes that sparkled. A low laugh escaped her throat and she stood, breaking away from his grasp. "I feel… whole!" She looked at the sky and an expression of pure ecstasy crossed her face. "No longer is my mind divided between my desires and that of others. Finally, I am thinking my own thoughts without interruption. Without your curse, I can sense Saphira's blessing coming to its full potential." The oval on her forehead began shining once more.

Eragon felt a chill creep up his spine, though he didn't know why. Angela glanced at him and then back at Elva, lines of uncertainty etched in her brow.

Elva turned back to Eragon, narrowing her eyes. "I can still sense your desires without effort, Eragon Shadeslayer." His name rolled off her tongue like it was a revolting word. "You want so badly to have peace—ha! You know nothing of peace until you have suffered the pains of a divided mind as I have. But I am whole again, and I will no longer serve the desires of others. You desire not only for peace, but for a maiden." She threw back her head and howled in laughter.

Arya, thought Eragon, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Onlookers stepped back nervously, whispering amongst themselves. Elva moved in close so only Eragon could hear her. "She doesn't feel for you, Shadeslayer. Get used to it."

He turned bright red despite himself, drawing a broad grin from Elva.

"Ah, you now wonder if it was appropriate to remove this little curse from me," she said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I am beginning to think I will regret it, yes," Eragon admitted, fidgeting.

"Your beloved Shadeslayer admits he might have made a mistake—now that's a moment for the history books!" Elva cackled. "Now here's another moment for the records. Listen well people of the Varden, because you will tell your grandchildren this story: I, Elva, hereby declare that the remainder of my life be spent without the sickening sensation that comes from pleasing people. I will no longer be a shield from misfortune, but a carrier of it. With the gods as my witness, I have done enough shielding for one lifetime."

Eragon had heard enough. The mad gleam in her eyes thoroughly convinced him that the child was mad, and she needed to be contained. He reached for his magic and opened his mouth to speak in the ancient language.

Elva suddenly whipped her head around, and her forehead shone brighter than ever before. At the same time, Eragon found he could not move any part of his body.

"You will not contain me. I will not allow it." She cocked her head to one side and the spot gave one final flash.

That was the last thing Eragon saw before falling unconscious.


	2. No More a Shield

**Chapter 2**

Darkness gave way to light, and Eragon could see the tent canvas above him. He blinked once, observing the golden material for a moment.

"He is awake," cooed Angela's voice.

Turning, he saw Nasuada sitting at her table. She looked up briefly before turning back to the map before her.

"What happened?" He asked, sitting up dizzily. Angela, on a short stool next to him, glanced down at her clasped hands. "Where is Elva?" He demanded.

"She is gone." Angela scowled at him.

"What? Where?" He reached out to Saphira; maybe she would have some answers.

 _I'm sorry, Eragon… I tried to catch her, but I was too late._

He didn't understand. What had the girl done after knocking him unconscious?

"You should be awfully proud of yourself, Eragon," Angela spat. "First, you cursed the poor, innocent child, destroying her entire life. And then, you left the spell on her and allowed it to drive her mad. Of all the cheating, no-good…"

"Angela." Nasuada's quiet voice interrupted her rant. The leader of the Varden nodded to the door of the tent, indicating Angela's dismissal. "I will speak with him."

The herbalist cast one more dangerous glare in Eragon's direction before disappearing through the flap of material.

Nasuada seated herself next to the cot and paused. For a moment, neither one spoke.

Finally, she broke the silence. "We do not know where Elva is."

He didn't know if that was good news or not. A mixture of relief for the girl being alive and fear for where she might be consumed his mind.

"She caused quite a commotion in leaving," Nasuada said, "catching three of our tents on fire and making a scene. Several soldiers were harmed, and one was killed."

Eragon winced, looking down. Shame crept up his spine and he wished Nasuada would stop, but she continued on in a quiet voice.

"Sooner than anyone could contain her, Elva climbed atop one of the tents and disappeared before the eyes of many. We know not where she disappeared to or what she will do when she gets there."

"I…" He started to say he was sorry, but knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Do not apologize, Eragon. You did the right thing in removing the curse. I only wish you had asked my permission beforehand, so the blame of this tragedy could fall on my shoulders. Your reputation among the Varden is not quite as strong as I would like after this misadventure."

Startled, he scowled a little.

"Your reputation is more important than mine. I'm just their leader; you… you are their hero. But it will take more than a blessing gone wrong to ruin the reputation of a Rider. My main concern is what sort of revenge Elva will take out on us. Surely she is not finished."

"I will try to find her. After all, I was the one who started this mess."

"Do not search. An entire team of magic users, including Arya, have searched the premise for Elva. She is gone, and we can hardly afford to waste our time scouring Alagaesia for her. Her power appeared strong enough that she could be anywhere, according to Arya. Though she never spoke any words in the ancient language, she used much magic…" Nasuada pondered the matter for a moment and then shrugged.

Eragon knew that the ancient language wasn't the only way to control magic, but kept that information to himself. Elva was all the more dangerous, being able to use magic without learning the language.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"We leave for Surda in the morning. I suggest you pack." Nasuada paused, apparently re-thinking her words. "But you will not be with us for long. I will send you to various villages in Surda at first to allow rumors to grow. And then, eventually, you will appear in the Empire; Belatona maybe."

A sudden wave of guilt once again enveloped him. Instead of leaving for Helgrind, where Katrina was, he would be journeying the opposite direction. Roran's disappointed face once again came before his eyes. "Nasuada, what if I appeared in the Empire sooner?" Eragon asked, his mind racing. Saphira urged him on, paying attention more to his conversation than to her task.

Nasuada pondered his proposal for a moment, and then smirked. "In the Empire… somewhere like Helgrind? Where you wanted to go in the first place?"

He laughed a little. "You caught me. But think about it: I would be killing the Ra'zac, one of Galbatorix's strongest weapons. Really, it would benefit the Varden."

"Your reasoning is good, but you and I both know that this is not about the Ra'zac. It is about your uncle, whom they killed, and your cousin, who wishes to rescue a certain prisoner of theirs." She gazed at him in such a way that Eragon felt she understood him perfectly. "It would be foolish for me to allow you permission, you know that, Eragon."

"Surely you would do anything to fulfill a promise to your father," he said. If that would not make her understand, nothing would.

 _Do not play on her emotions so,_ Saphira scolded.

 _I am just putting it into perspective!_

Nasuada looked down, her face blank for a moment. Then she said, "Will you have no peace until this promise is fulfilled?"

"None whatsoever."

"Will you act reasonably and according to what's best for the Varden rather than endangering yourself unnecessarily for the sake of revenge?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then go, Eragon Shadeslayer, and take your cousin to Helgrind. I will not be at peace until you return though."

"Thank you, Nasuada," he said, smiling.

"Don't get used to such compromises. Your vow to me is still as strong as the day you made it. One day, you will have to go against your instincts to obey it." She smiled for a moment. It was the first time he had seen her smile since his training.

He almost wanted to stay just to speak with her, but Saphira's prodding encouraged him to leave, seeking out Roran to announce the good news.

The strategy room of Galbatorix's castle in Uru'baen was silent. One candle illuminated the entire room, allowing dark shadows to play about the wall. An enormous table stood in the center with a detailed map of Alagaesia spread across its whole. The hulking form of King Galbatorix sat slumped in an ornate throne behind the table. His azure eyes clouded over, as if his mind was somewhere else. Occasionally, his brow would twitch as if reacting to someone's comment.

So deep was his trance that he did not notice the shadow until it was nearly upon him. Quite abruptly, his eyes focused and he stood upright. His left hand shot out and his tongue prepared to utter a word of death. But there was no need. All that stood before him was a little girl.

"Who are you?" He demanded, his voice irate.

"I am not one to be used as a pet, and I am here to take out revenge upon that ridiculous group of rebels that calls itself the Varden. I wish to reverse my previous habit of shielding others from misfortune." Her voice, eerily like a woman's, rang out calmly and clearly. She showed no fear, which irritated the king.

"Why would I need the help of a child to destroy a group of criminals?"

"I am not a Rider," she said, slowly lifting a hand to her forehead, which was covered in matted brown hair, "but I have a power of my own perhaps greater." The shining oval on her forehead became visible as she brushed aside her bangs. "I am not held down by the bond of a dragon."

A look of confusion entered the king's face. "How did you get in here? I will have my guards hanged for allowing your entrance without my permission."

"There is no need for that; the six guards outside that door are dead. No one else saw me."

He was intrigued now. Sitting casually on his throne, he asked, "And the others in the hallway and outside?"

"They didn't see me."

Galbatorix laughed, throwing his head back. "You little liar. I must admit, you are convincing. But no one can be unseen to guards without using some sort of magic, and no one can use magic in this building without my knowledge."

"I can."

"I am impressed then. You will be a powerful servant."

Her eyes sparkled with rage. "I already said I am no man's pet. We merely have a common enemy, and I have decided that being with you is the best way to cause them harm."

Still amused, Galbatorix nodded. "Think of it that way if it pleases you," he said lightly. Once again his eyes clouded over, and then his expression changed. "Say… I have an idea. Will you follow me?" Without waiting for her answer, he strode to the far end and opened the double doors. Stepping over the dead guards without a second thought, he said to the girl, "We can do a lot together, you and I. I only wish all of my troops were as willing as you to join the cause. You see, I've had some trouble with my second-in-command. He betrayed me. But worry not. Such an event will not occur again. I have made sure of that."

Elva followed him wordlessly, listening carefully to his words.

"My only desire," he changed the subject, "is to restore peace to Alagaesia and bring back the Dragon Riders. Perhaps you can play a principal role in that feat…" His voice trailed off. He was talking more to himself than to her.

They walked up several stone staircases, passing groups of patrol guards along the way. On the final level, there were no guards. In fact, the hallway was deserted.

Galbatorix led Elva down the quiet corridor. Near its end, the walls opened up into a giant room with a high ceiling and a gaping hole at one end. The starry sky could be seen outside.

But neither the king nor the young girl paid much attention to the room. Their eyes immediately fell upon a giant black dragon in the center of the room. It stood at alert, watching their every move. At its taloned feet rested a silver egg.

"This is Shruikan," Galbatorix explained, "guarding my most prized possession. Would you like to see it?"

Elva smirked, looking intently at the dragon egg. "I am not the one it is waiting for," she declared.

"Who is it? Do you know the destined Rider?"

"The Rider is beyond your grasp. It matters not who it is."

"How can you possibly know?" He demanded.

"I know lots of things you don't," Elva said mysteriously. "For instance: I know exactly what Rider Eragon plans to do and how you can capture him."


	3. Reunion

**Chapter 3**

"Atra brisingr risa. Un brakka rakr," Eragon muttered under his breath. He knew that Roran was still uncomfortable with the idea of magic.

What had been a diminishing campfire suddenly came to life, giving off barely any visible smoke.

Roran, finished rooting through his bag, turned around to find the fire blazing steadily. "See, Eragon, I told you it would get going without your help. Once it settles down, I can prepare dinner for the both of us."

Eragon grinned to himself. "You are right, magic isn't always needed. It took right off once we left it alone."

It was their first night away from the Varden encampment, and already Saphira had brought them halfway to Helgrind. Their fire was set up at the edge of a clearing where Saphira could land easily.

"Should we both go hunt, or one of us stay behind to keep watch?" Roran asked.

"Saphira is hunting. I asked her to bring something for you. As for me, I have some bread and apples packed. They will be just fine."

Roran shrugged. He was leery of Saphira still, but Eragon knew they would warm up to each other soon.

A mighty thump of Saphira's wing beats interrupted the two men's thoughts. She alighted softly in the clearing and made her way to Roran, plopping an entire dead deer on the ground before him.

"She says it's yours," Eragon laughed.

His cousin looked down at the animal and shook his head in disbelief. "I hope she is hungry. Really, I was expecting a rabbit!"

The dragon's head turned and her attention wavered. She glanced at the fire and then looked back to Roran, snorting a blue flame.

"She is insulted you started a fire." A smile played at Eragon's lips.

Suddenly, Saphira turned to the dead deer and breathed flame over it.

Roran leapt back, shielding his face from the heat.

She stopped the flame just long enough to turn the deer over and continue the process. In a matter of minutes, it was cooked just right.

They sat on either side of the fire, enjoying the quiet night.

"I suppose we will arrive tomorrow," Eragon informed.

"That soon? I am glad." Roran gripped his hammer firmly.

"You'll need a better weapon eventually, you know."

"What will we do when we reach Helgrind? Is there a plan?" He changed the subject.

Eragon sat back, conversing briefly with Saphira before answering. "We rush in, save the girl, kill the Ra'zac, and leave."

"I know that, but is there anything I should know?"

"It is impossible to plan out the rescue since I don't even know what it looks like inside. When we get there, keep low. I will instruct you with my mind."

Roran nodded slowly. "I will not be content until this hammer has been united with their heads."

Eragon touched his new sword, thinking teasingly to Saphira, _I hope he doesn't intend to hog both of them._

 _I do not care, so long as neither of you take out the Lethrblaka. I shall crush their skulls with my teeth._ She snorted.

 _Aye, and my sword shall meet_ a _Ra'zac's heart._

Though their manner was light, both Saphira and Eragon could feel the other's unease. They spoke in such a way to ease the tension, and it helped.

That night, the three of them took turns keeping watch. By morning, they were fresh and ready for the new day.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when the towers of Helgrind came into view.

Saphira flew around it several times before Eragon detected the entrance. It was halfway up the cliff, big enough for a full-grown dragon to fly through, and covered with magic to look like stone. Once he realized the spell, it was not hard to see the opening. Saphira glided through the illusion, landing softly in the large room beyond.

"It's huge!" Roran whispered, gazing about.

Eragon reached out quickly to silence his cousin. _Quiet!_

The room _was_ enormous. Its domed ceiling seemed to go on forever. Several hallways led away from the main chamber, none of them large enough for Saphira to enter.

Cursing himself for not having done so before, Eragon opened his mind to all of his surroundings. Nothing within his reach contained life aside from Saphira and Roran.

 _Which hall should we enter?_ His cousin inquired, awkwardly wondering if Eragon had heard his thought clearly and then repeating it again, just to make sure.

Eragon put a finger to his lips and strode across the open space, into the first hallway a few feet. Still he could not sense any life. Backtracking, he checked the next hall. There, he smelled the stench of rotting meat and could feel the presence of bacteria growing on dead flesh, nothing more. It was the third hall that caught Eragon's interest. Yes, he could sense the mind of Katrina. She was being held only fifty paces down the stone hallway. But she was not alone.

Eragon sent a warning message to Roran before informing, _She's down here._

Roran's mind raced and a thousand questions entered his mind, but Eragon ignored them.

 _The Ra'zac are in there with her and we will be more likely to get her out alive if they come to meet us in the larger room—that way they cannot take Katrina hostage. And Saphira can help us out there if she is needed._

Roran agreed, gripping his hammer. A muscle along his jaw tightened as he thought, _Let us not delay. Have Saphira make a racket so they will come to meet us._

 _Just what I was thinking._

Saphira breathed deeply, taking a full three minutes just to fill her lungs, and let out a mighty roar.

Both men covered their ears, stepping clear of the hallway and readying to fight.

Only a moment after Saphira ended her roar, the Ra'zac emerged. Already Eragon had his sword drawn and Roran was gripping his hammer tightly.

"Hello there," Eragon said as one of the Ra'zac charged at him. It brandished a curved blade that clashed with Eragon's in mid-air. He allowed his opponent to make the next move, blocking its swing effortlessly.

 _They are not as powerful as I once thought,_ he mused, knocking his adversary's sword away and then silencing the Ra'zac with a final blow.

Roran and the second Ra'zac were battling it out, the hooded creature slowly gaining the upper hand.

Eragon, seeing his cousin's disadvantage, ran to his side, jabbing lightly at their enemy without trying to kill it. He would allow Roran to take the final blow.

Between the two of them, the remaining Ra'zac was far outmatched. It swung around wildly, trying its best to reverse the situation. But with a single stroke, Eragon swiped the creature's sword away. And in the next instant, Roran's hammer came crashing down on its skull.

The satisfying crack assured Eragon that the fight was done.

"Hurry, let's get out of here," he said, thinking of the lethrblaka. The winged parents of the Ra'zac would not go down as easily, and he hated resorting to magical means of defeating his enemies. It felt so cruel and unmerited.

Roran ran down the hall, Eragon following. They found Katrina in a small room off the hallway. Her arms were chained high on the wall so that her limp form hung there awkwardly. The state of her dress was painful to look at, but the expression on her pale face was of pure joy when she saw Roran rush into the room.

Eragon stood back awkwardly and closed his mind to anyone but Saphira as Roran ran to Katrina. They kissed, and she began crying with joy.

"How did you get here?" she asked. "What was that noise outside?... Oh I don't care. I love you."

Roran kissed her one more time and looked around for a key to her locked chains.

Eragon spoke a word in the ancient language and the shackles released. "We need not linger," he reminded.

Katrina, no longer held up by the hard chains, fell limp to the floor. Roran quickly brought her up and embraced her. "I've thought of this moment every day since they took you."

Saphira contacted Eragon urgently. The lethrblaka were in the main chamber.

"Now, Roran." He drew his sword and started back up the hall.

"Who is that?" he heard Katrina whisper.

"Eragon. He is a Rider now. You have a lot to catch up on. We're going to ride away on his dragon." Roran helped Katrina walk after Eragon and set her down near the main chamber, brandishing his hammer.

Already the sounds of battle were clear. They came into the large room and saw Saphira engaged in a deadly fight with a winged beast. The other, not fifteen feet away, lay dead.

Eragon ran forward, aiding Saphira. He slashed a large cut in the beast's wing before adding a similar wound to its shoulder.

The lethrblaka, in a final move, leaped up in the air and clamped its claws around Saphira's neck. She roared weakly and tried to shake the thing off. But it held fast and began pecking toward her eye.

Eragon spoke a word in the ancient language, and the lethrblaka fell dead to the stone floor.

 _I had things under control!_ Saphira said irritably. _You didn't have to do that._

 _It sure looked like it,_ he said. _You're about to carry three people out of here. I can't have you injured._

He put a hand to her neck and whispered, "Waise heill." The effort drained much of his energy, but he figured he would not need it anyway. As long as Saphira could fly them away, which would not be too difficult since she had grown, he would need no more energy.

Suddenly, he heard Katrina scream.

Whipping his head around, he spotted her gaping at the entrance. There stood his brother, his blood brother, with a red dragon at his side, holding a sword the color of blood.

"I cannot show you any mercy this time, Eragon," said Murtagh, darting forward with his blade ready. He spoke in the ancient language.

Eragon did not understand why his brother had chosen sword fighting as their method of a duel, but drew his sword anyway, blocking Murtagh's blow without a thought. In that instant, he knew he could pull back and stab Murtagh in the heart without even the slightest difficulty given his much improved reflexes, but he couldn't make himself do it. Instead, he merely fought at the same speed as Murtagh.

Saphira prepared for an attack from Thorn, but the smaller dragon showed no signs of attacking. Instead, he watched the heated fight progress.

They fought for a little longer, and soon, Eragon felt Murtagh trying to break into his mind. Immediately, he set up huge blocks. Saphira reached in and helped, but fighting and blocking his brother's mind was difficult. They neared Roran and Katrina, still fighting at the same pace.

And then Murtagh whispered something, but Eragon's keen ears picked it up. "Slytha!"

Eragon prepared to reverse the spell, but he did not feel its affects entering his mind. Instead, Roran, only ten feet away, weakened and began to fall. In an instant, Murtagh had caught him and was holding his sword up to the unconscious man's neck.

Indecision hit Eragon full-force. No doubt Murtagh would make strong demands while he was in this state. He would be forced to choose between his freedom and his cousin's life—no; choose between the Varden and his cousin's life. It was not a decision he wanted to make.

Murtagh grinned, taking advantage of Eragon's weakened state and breaking into his mind, whispering, "Slytha."

Eragon had no time to react, not that Murtagh would have allowed his mind to form the reversal words. His vision went dark and he felt himself falling…

 _Eragon!_ Saphira cried, but he did not answer. She charged at Murtagh, intending to tear his flesh apart, but stopped short.

Murtagh was at Eragon's side, holding his sword to the neck of his own brother. He said, "You don't want to do that, Saphira. I will not harm you and nor will my master. But if you disobey us, Eragon dies. Kill me if you will; but if you wish for your Rider to live, you'll fly to Uru'baen with us."

She shrank back, trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. He left her no choice.


	4. Dormant

**Chapter 4**

A dream-like state dominated Eragon's mind, yet he fought it. Why, he didn't know. But, for some reason, he wanted to wake. For what seemed like an eternity, he tried to open his eyes.

Finally, his senses began returning. Cold wind hit his face and he felt the steady up-and-down flaps of a dragon's wings. He was flying. Also, he felt his stomach strapped to a rough surface.

At last, his hearing returned, just in time to hear the word, "Slytha!"

All consciousness left him once again, and he dreamed.

 _There was a room with a desk in its center and only one opening: a double door. It was eerily dark, and everything was unclear, as if a curtain covered the scene._

 _The doors opened and a figure slipped through. It was a woman, but all that was visible was her vague outline. Striding to the desk, she opened a drawer, but then stopped abruptly._

 _Another dark figure emerged from the shadows, holding a sword casually at his side._

" _What are you here for?" She demanded._

" _You know why I am here," he said darkly._

Murtagh strode into the strategy room, bowing brusquely to the king before speaking. "I have succeeded, Master."

"Good. I could not afford for you to embarrass me again." Galbatorix nodded to the far corner of the room, right behind Murtagh, and said, "You were correct. Please join me so you can be properly introduced."

Confused, Murtagh turned to see a little girl with brown hair and green eyes walk out of the shadows. She stood next to him, both of them facing the king, and said, "Of course I was correct. I wouldn't have told you something if it wasn't true."

A smile played at the king's lips and he said, "Murtagh, meet Elva. She is our new ally and by far the most valuable one."

Murtagh nodded to the girl, wondering silently if this allegiance was against her will.

"But, moving on, what precautions have you made to keep the Rider under control?"

"He is asleep, and I have assured his dragon that he dies if she is disagreeable. The two who were with him, a man and a woman, I left in a prison near are of no importance."

"Shruikan informs me that Saphira is in the egg chamber. I wish to look upon her with my own eyes." Galbatorix rose and exited the room, leaving Murtagh with the young girl.

She looked curiously at him. "You desire freedom. As I once was, you are bound by the words of that hideous language."

"You aren't bound any longer?" he asked, wondering what would possess anyone, much less a girl of four or five, to willingly join the King.

"No. Traces of the magic still surround me, but I am no longer bound by it."

He did not understand her fully, but decided that the girl was delirious. Perhaps she had read too many fairy tales and then eaten the wrong foods.

Galbatorix entered the open room, smiling ear-to-ear. "Hello, Saphira. I've waited a long time to meet you."

She breathed out a burst of flame and shoved herself farther into the corner of the room, avoiding even the sight of the black dragon.

"I mean you no harm. You may do as you wish and fly anywhere, so long as you return before sunset. I had that wall taken out so Shruikan and Thorn could come and go as they please. You'll find I am a reasonable man."

She dared to speak into his mind, and he did not block her out. _Where is Eragon? If you so much as harm a hair on his head, I swear I'll…_

"Do not worry, my dear Saphira. We will not even wake him. He would be too bothersome if brought to consciousness. You are the important one. Shruikan and I have been waiting for you longer than you can imagine."

Something in his voice made Saphira want to become invisible. She wished, in that moment, that Eragon had never promised to rescue Katrina from the Ra'zac.

Arya burst through the tent door, ignoring the protests of Nasuada's guards who stood outside. "I have come across some disturbing news, Lady," she spat.

Nasuada looked up, dread filling her very bones. Eragon had not returned, and it was the fifth morning. Something was wrong. "What is it?" She forced a calm expression.

"Contacts in Uru'baen have spotted a dragon flying above the city; a _**blue**_ dragon." Arya's eyes shone brightly and her jaw tightened. "Why would Eragon be in Uru'baen?"

Nasuada dropped her gaze. How could this have happened? "He was on a mission to Helgrind…"

"HELGRIND!" Arya was furious, "YOU ALLOWED HIM TO JOURNEY THAT FAR FROM THE VARDEN WITHOUT AID? AND WHAT FOR? SO HE COULD STIMULATE HIS LUST FOR REVENGE AND FINISH A PERSONAL MATTER?"

"I made a decision as leader of the Varden," Nasuada reminded, standing up and meeting the elf's eyes evenly.

"Queen Islanzadi will not be pleased with your folly. Eragon is a fool, and you have encouraged him by giving him permission to put his needs above that of the Varden's."

A spirit of resentment rose up in Nasuada, and she stated quite calmly, "Not everyone is an elf. Sometimes, we humans make mistakes. And sending Eragon after one of our strongest foes seemed like a good move. I overestimated his abilities and for that I am sorry. But please do not lecture me now, for we need to reverse this situation. Surely, as logical as you are, you understand that arguing will get us nowhere."

Arya narrowed her eyes and said, "What shall we do, Lady? He is obviously in the grasp of Galbatorix. It is only a matter of time before he is forced to swear a thousand oaths to the tyrant."

"That is why we must act quickly." Nasuada struggled to find a solution. A rescue team would have to be sent out, preferably a team that included elven magic-users. A team of such individuals had arrived recently to reinforce their troops, and she was relieved at their presence.

"I could choose the best of our elven warriors to accompany me to Uru'baen. It is our best hope."

"Yes, choose as many as you will, but you may need human and dwarf companions as well. I shall make a list and you shall leave before midday." Nasuada already had a few people in mind.

Arya scowled, but left the tent to carry out her orders.

Left to herself, Nasuada began to scold herself far worse than Arya ever could.

 _How could you have sent him away like that?_

 _Why can't you think?_

 _When will you learn to put the Varden first?_

 _And what would father think?_

She buried her face in her hands, pondering the full extent of their situation and realizing how much Eragon must be suffering at that moment.

For what must have been the millionth time, Nasuada doubted her decision to be part of the Varden, much less lead it. Would her life not be much easier just allowing Galbatorix to rule? His reign would be cruel, but at least the war and bloodshed would be done. The thought stirred much emotion in her, and she began to cry.

It was the first time she had cried in a long time, but she felt the built-up tension of the past few weeks releasing as she sobbed into her calloused hands.

 _Why can't we just give up? These people don't deserve to die in battle._

But, as always, the answer came into her mind.

 _They do not deserve to suffer under his rule._

And, as always, it encouraged her to face one more day.

Vanir tested the edge of his sword, glancing over to Arya. She had a familiar expression on her face and he knew what she was thinking. "Arya, you have mourned Faolin too long. He died the same way you and I probably will."

"At the hand of a Shade?" She scowled.

"No. At the hand of the Empire," he corrected.

She switched languages, speaking in the common human tongue. "I am not mourning Faolin, if you must know. I'm mourning the fact that you are so troublesome. It is a shame you are so talented with magic and with the blade, or I would have taken any other elf along." She moved to join the other two elves in their group, Tianor and Oskilia.

"That's right, Arya, speak childishly and leave in a hurry," he called after her, shaking his head.

She ignored him, helping Oskilia groom her horse. "How is your mother?"

"She doesn't like being stuck at home, but her abilities aren't what they used to be," the elf maiden replied. She was golden-haired and a born fighter. "What of you, Arya elda? Have you found peace since the accident?"

Arya glanced at Vanir, answering, "Yes."

He laughed.


	5. Grim News

**Chapter 5**

 _A dark figure slipped through the double doors, walking to a desk in the middle of the room._

 _She reached and opened the drawer, but stopped abruptly._

 _He stepped forward, a sword held at his side._

" _What are you here for?" she asked._

" _You know why I am here," he replied._

" _I know who has sent you," she said evenly._

 _He reached tenderly toward her, but she shied away. "Why do you always put yourself last?" he whispered._

" _Because I have a conscience. You're here to kill me, aren't you?"_

 _He laughed. "No. I am here for the egg. Where is it?"_

" _You will not find it here, Murtagh." Her voice wavered slightly, but she stood tall._

" _Then I shall search elsewhere. If you try and stop me, I cannot hesitate to kill you." Once again, he reached for her, resting a hand on her cheek. She grabbed his hand and pushed it away._

 _He looked at her hand. "I see how it is. Now I should kill you, Nasuada."_

Nasuada cleared her throat. "People of the Varden, we have been blessed with a victory over King Galbatorix. But do not rejoice too soon, for our losses have been great. Proud, good-hearted men died at the hand of the Empire. We must mourn for those lost and let their lives fill us with hope. They believed in this dream, this dream of freedom, and we shall make it a reality in their stead."

The people cheered.

"And our people are not the only ones worth mourning over. Galbatorix's army was made up largely of people who were fighting against their will. We suffer for their freedom as well.

"Our numbers are not what they were before this great battle, but we will not lose hope. The Empire's soldiers fight out of fear, but we fight out of hope. If we lose that, nothing can stop Galbatorix.

"Rumors have already spread about our new enemy, Morzan's son, who now bears the mark of a Rider. It is true that he is being held under the king's influence, but again, those who fight out of fear lose to those who fight out of hope. And after all, with Galbatorix hiding out in his castle all the time, we have only Morzan's son to fight. I think he will not find it so easy to get past our own Rider."

The people cheered at her reference to Eragon. He was still thought highly of even after the incident with Elva.

 _If only he were here,_ she thought dismally. News of his capture was not yet released to the public and she liked it that way.

"In time, we shall take down this Rider and his master, restoring peace to Alagaesia. Already I have people spreading the word that we, the Varden, wish to come against the Empire one final time. Common goals shall unite us, and together, we can be unstoppable."

The crowd erupted into cheers and hoots.

Nasuada waved and stepped down from the platform, joining her guards for an escort back to Borromeo Castle. They had arrived in Aberon just the day before.

She came back to her office and told her guards to stay outside the door. Taking off her cloak, she slumped into her chair. Speaking to those people after having lead their husbands and sons to their death was heartbreaking.

"Lady?" Farica, her maidservant, asked.

"Yes?" Nasuada wondered if she could have a moment of peace without interruption.

"There is a dwarf here to see you. I told him you would see no one, but he says you will want to hear his words." The expression on the woman's face showed that she was sorry for adding one more thing to Nasuada's list of duties.

She wondered if Orik had returned already. "Bring him in."

Orik strode through the doorway, a troubled expression on his face, and sat in a chair opposite her.

"You said I would want to hear what you have to say?"

He sighed, "There has been trouble with the dwarves."

"What? What has happened?" She didn't think she could take one more disaster.

Once again, he sighed heavily. For a moment, neither one spoke. And then he said it. "The fools have made _me_ their king."

Nasuada let out a long-held breath. "Why, congratulations, Orik."

"Congratulations? Ha!" He scoffed. "It has caused all sorts of trouble amongst the clans. Some of them think I am just king because Hrothgar adopted me while others think I have abandoned our traditions in going to Ellesmera and spending time amongst the elves. And most of them question me because it is widely known that I approve of Eragon, a rider. It has all of our clans fighting against each other, and it's left up to me to straighten the whole mess out."

She finally understood his predicament. "What shall you do? Resign?"

"Resign? Pshaw. That wouldn't stop the fighting. Tension has been growing between the clans ever since Hrothgar showed support for the Varden. It was my coronation that set them off, and resigning won't do a damn thing."

"What can I do to aid you in this situation?" she asked, knowing full well that dwarves were too proud to accept any help.

"This is a dwarf matter; I will need no aid. But I'm afraid it will take a long time to sort. And I will not be able to spare any dwarf troops in the meantime… so now you see the fix that I'm in. Lady, as much as I hate to say it, I cannot send any more warriors to aid the Varden." He looked revolted at his own words even as he said them, and Nasuada knew that his need must be great indeed.

"I am sorry to hear that, Orik. But, as a leader myself, I understand that your people come as first priority." She forced the words out of her mouth, trying not to seem too upset. What would the Varden do without dwarf assistance?

"Well, that's all I had to say really." He looked down awkwardly. "I need to return to Farthen Dur. They're making a bloody mess over there without me."

"Thank you for delivering this news in person, Orik. I hope we shall meet again under more pleasant circumstances." She stood and walked him out of the room.

Not ten minutes had passed before Trianna came before her.

"Lady," she began, "a spy in Dras Leona has located the peasant who you asked about. Roran of Carvahall is imprisoned along with a maiden from the same village. I can only assume she's the one they were rescuing."

Nasuada thought for a moment. Nothing would be gained if they rescued Roran from prison—it would hardly be worth it. More people would be lost during the escape than saved afterward. But he knew things about the Varden. Thinking more, Nasuada realized that she didn't know the extent of his knowledge. What had Eragon foolishly told his cousin? How much would Roran tell the guards?

"What are you waiting for?" Nasuada asked. "Send a message to our spies in Dras Leona ordering them to break Roran and this girl out of prison."

Trianna appeared shocked at her leader's abrupt decision, and didn't look as if she agreed with Nasuada's reasoning. But she obeyed, leaving the room without a word.

The rescue party rode on for ten days, stopping only for short breaks. Having no time to wait for the dwarf warriors, Nasuada had sent three humans along with Arya. They were comparable fighters in the eyes of men, but none could stand a chance against an elf or dragon rider.

Vanir, Arya, Iskilia, and Tianor did not make much conversation with the humans. When they did speak, each found they had nothing in common with the men anyway. So the group divided into two without meaning to.

They skirted along the Hadarac Desert where few traveled and settlements were scarce. For food, they ate solely from their packs, not taking any time to hunt. They stopped at night only out of respect for their horses' health; continuing their journey long before dawn each morning. Speed was their only tool. If they could catch Galbatorix off-guard, they had a chance. If not... they didn't want to find out what happened if they failed.

When they reached the outskirts of Uru'baen, they took every precaution, trying at all costs to avoid soldiers.

Arya called a discussion when they came within sight of the city gates.

"How should we get inside?" Tianor asked, his blue eyes flashing in preparation to use magic.

"Getting inside the city isn't our problem, it's getting into his castle," Arya reminded.

"I suggest we don't be subtle about it," Vanir said. "Charge right into his fortress without warning; it's the last thing old Shurtu- _girl_ will expect."

"Are you mad?" One of the human men asked, ignoring Vanir's rude name for the king. Arya recognized him as the only human in their company who couldn't use magic. "What we need is a distraction—but a convincing distraction. Have half of us try to use magic and get in. Galbatorix will notice something like that. The others could enter without using magic. _That_ is what he will least expect."

She looked at the man, surprised at his boldness to speak to Vanir so, yet impressed at his good reasoning. "You, what is your name?"

He looked down. "Hammond, son of Regulus."

"Hammond, you have gained my respect." She turned to her elven companions. "He makes a good proposal. What do you say?"

"I say that it will be impossible to enter without using magic," Vanir said.

"Vanir is right," Tianor admitted.

Oskilia scowled. "I say it's just as impossible as entering with magic. The king surely has spells cast that inform him of foreign magic."

"You really mean to use no magic whatsoever? Can't we at least keep ourselves hidden so the guards don't slaughter us?" One of the men fidgeted.

"Silence!" Arya bristled with frustration. "I, as personal representative of Queen Islanzadi, hereby take command in this situation. Hammond, you take one of your comrades with Vanir and I. Once outside the castle, we will seek to enter it without magic. Oskilia and Tianor, take the other man with you and try as hard as you can to reach Eragon using your best spells. If one of our groups is discovered, whichever it is, it should provide an adequate distraction for the other to succeed."

The group accepted her authority with grim faces. They knew that, in all probability, this was the last order they would follow.

"Now, let us go into the city. Elven friends, hood yourselves as not to be recognized. Men… keep a close watch."

They all did as they were told. Quietly, they made their way to the stone wall around Uru'baen, avoiding the main gates.

When they were out of sight from any soldiers, Arya spoke a few sentences in the ancient language. As the last words of the spell escaped her throat, she took a rope out of her bag and tossed it up the fifteen-foot wall. It did not come down. Instead, the very end attached itself to the stone and melded into it.

Not bothering to test the rope's strength, she climbed up the wall with its aid. At the top, she lay down on the stone and peered down at the alley. A soldier meandered alone on his patrol duty, unaware of her presence. The swerving walk and dazed eyes convinced Arya that he was drunk. She would use that to her advantage.

 _No need to kill him; that would draw attention._

 _If he 'accidentally' passes out… now that's a common occurrence._

She spoke a word and he fell to the street, asleep.

Then she jumped down, landing cat-like on the stone pavement. No one was in sight, but she could hear the hustle and bustle of city life beyond the deserted buildings before her.

 _Hurry,_ she said to Vanir.

Just then, he climbed down the rope beside her. _Jumping down was just a way of showing off, Arya._

She blocked him out of her mind as the others climbed down the rope. With a word, she released the spell and the rope fell to her side.

"I thought you weren't supposed to use magic," one of the men said, scowling.

"Not once we're near the castle, no." She turned away, irritated. "Let's split up now, while no one can see us together."

They did so, and Vanir, Arya, Hammond, and another human fighter entered a crowded street together. All of their eyes rested on one object: the towers of Galbatorix's home.


	6. Rescue Interrupted

**Chapter 6**

Galbatorix was studying the map on his table when he felt a mental tug. Silent alarms went off in the corners of his mind, and he grimaced. Immediately, he sent a servant for Murtagh, who arrived in only a few moments.

"Master," he greeted, nodding deeply.

"My apprentice, I charge you with the duty of eliminating a rescue team from my property—and from this world. As I expected, the Varden has sent its strongest magic users to Eragon's aid. They are in the east wing."

Murtagh noted that his master did not ask him to swear it, but let the unspoken promise of punishment be his only incentive to complete the task. "I will not disappoint you," he said.

And with that, Morzan's son strode from the room.

For a moment, Galbatorix stood in thought. Then, a guard entered and announced, "Lord, the child wishes to meet with you."

"I'll allow it," Galbatorix said, sitting down casually in his throne. He looked forward to the moments spent with Elva. Her mysterious abilities and unpredictable words intrigued him, and he relished in the fact that she was under his power.

The girl stood before him without bowing.

"Are your quarters to your satisfaction?" He asked.

"They are what they are: a place to sleep." She brushed his small talk away. "But I am not here to exchange pleasantries."

He raised his eyebrows at her boldness. "Oh?"

"As I'm sure you have noticed, your security has been breached. I can only guess you've dealt with the matter properly by now. But what you don't know is this: there is another group of rebels fighting their way to the egg chamber as we speak. They are armed with only the sword, and have proved deadly enough that no patrol guards live to bring you this news."

"And how do you know this?" He asked. The more he learned about this girl's power, the more he wondered how far it reached.

"I just do."

He gave up getting a straight answer and took her word for it. "Then I shall send a group after them. Do you know how many there are?"

"No. But I know there are elves."

"Aye. Then I shall send a large group. Thank you for this valuable information. It is a wonderful way to prove your loyalty."

At the word "loyalty," a shadow fell over Elva's face and her eyes burned an emerald fire.

But Galbatorix was too busy to notice. He called in the leader of a patrol group and sent him away with thirty soldiers. They were to find the group and destroy them.

As soon as the details were worked out, the King turned to dismiss Elva. But he found she had already gone.

Arya crept along the hall, sword held before her. Long before anyone else could, she detected the sound of guards on their patrol duties. Her keen ears picked up the clanging of metal armor before the group was in the same hall.

 _At least ten more are coming this way,_ she informed the others, whose minds remained completely open to avoid detection. Often, in missions like this one, she had found that guarded minds are far more noticeable than unguarded, traitorous ones.

 _How far away are they?_ Vanir asked.

 _They're about to round the corner over there. Here's how we'll take care of this one: see that room over there?_ He nodded. _One of us goes into there and makes a racket. The troop of guards sends a few soldiers in to discover the source. That will thin out our enemy. The rest of our team comes out from that corner and attacks._

 _Great. Who goes inside the room?_

 _I will._

The whole group agreed, and Arya slipped into the side room while the others hid in the shadows of another hallway.

She found herself in a deserted bedroom, presumably meant for noble guests of some sort. But the King hardly ever had guests for extended periods of time any more.

Footsteps clanged down the hall, coming closer and closer. Arya could feel their presence, and knew when they were close. Shortly after they passed, she took an oil lamp from the wall and smashed it to bits.

Immediately, the sound of footsteps stopped, and she heard a masculine voice say, "Halt! You two... go check it out."

Two sets of footsteps echoed slightly in the hallway, and the door opened.

Arya did nothing, knowing full well that the soldiers could not see her in the dark room. Only her keen Elven eyes could make out the room clearly.

"Boss, can we have a torch?" One man asked, "It's bloody dark in there."

Their leader mumbled something about being afraid of the dark, but the men soon returned, one of them carrying a torch.

This time, Arya stood behind the door. When both of them had passed, she darted forward, getting one of them in the back with her sword. The other turned around to see his comrade dead and opened his mouth to yell, but she quickly silenced him.

Men outside began whispering.

"Hello?" sounded a voice from the hall.

"You three, you better go check on 'em."

Arya grinned to herself. It was going better than expected. She slid the bodies out of the way so no one would trip and resumed her position behind the door.

Three men walked through the doorway past her. Just as her sword slipped through the back of the last one, the first, who carried a torch, noticed two bodies lying to the side of the door. "BOSS!" he shouted, drawing his sword and whirling around to meet Arya. "Who are you?" he whispered, seeing that two more bodies had been added to her collection.

"I'm the last thing you'll ever see." She swung at his side and was blocked. Then she went for a stab in the heart; but, once again, the soldier blocked her. Finally, she allowed their swords to meet and then pulled out a dagger, ending their fight by burying it into his chest with her left hand.

Turning around, she was immediately faced with six more guards. They filed into the room, trapping her.

 _Vanir… now would be a good time._

No answer came. She held her sword high and prepared to fight.

Vanir and the two men dashed through the door behind them, taking out two soldiers before the group noticed. Between Arya and the others, the job was done in only a few moments.

She mumbled under her breath, "You could have acted earlier," wiping her sword clean and stepping back into the hall.

Immediately, she felt cold steel against her neck. "Don't make a move," said the voice of her attacker, the leader of the group, "or she dies."

Arya cursed herself a thousand times over for being so careless. And then she cursed Vanir and the others for accidentally overlooking this man. How could they have left him alive?

Vanir, Hammond and the other human froze, exchanging panicking glances.

 _How did he get past you?_ She dared to ask Vanir with her mind.

 _I wounded him badly. You can't tell, but he is bleeding from the stomach and will die soon._

 _Well, don't just stand there. Kill him!_

 _I can't do it with magic. And if I try anything else, he'll kill you._

 _Just find Eragon and Saphira and leave. This mission is more important than my life._

Vanir scowled at her despite the situation. _No it isn't. Your life is more valuable than any human's is. I will not kill you._

 _It's not a human's life we're talking about; it's a dragon's life, and the life of our people._

While Arya and Vanir quarreled silently, Hammond touched the weapon at his side; a crossbow. It was his weapon of choice, and he was deadly accurate when using it. The only trick was raising it before the old fool had time to react.

In an instant, he pulled the bow up and took aim, sending an arrow into the soldier's head before anyone knew what had happened.

Arya flinched and pushed the body of her foe off of her, holding a sword out as if to be sure he wouldn't rise again.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Let us leave. There is a limited amount of time before someone finds this group and the others slaughtered. Hammond, son of Regulus, you have earned the respect of the Elves. If you and I survive this, I will see you honored for this service."

He bowed his head.

They continued down the hall, rounding one more corner and coming into the presence of a little girl, not more than five years old.

Instantly, Arya recognized the true nature behind Elva's weak appearance and drew her sword. "It's the one who Eragon cursed. She has to be destroyed." She tried to charge forward, but found that her muscles wouldn't move. Not even her lips could form any words. For a moment, she struggled against the magic, but could not break the spell.


	7. Brutal Awakening

**Chapter 7**

"Arya of Ellesmera, I have not come to destroy you—and for that, you should be glad," warned Elva. "Galbatorix thinks I am under his command, and I do this so that at least I can know that he has no control over me. If we shall meet again, you may find me not so willing to aid you. But, for now, the best way for me to remain my own person, and the best way for me to continue bringing pain to Eragon, is to do this." Elva released the magic that held Arya and reached for the ceiling. The stone quivered and then molded to form a hole in the floor above. "Up there is the hall outside Eragon Shadeslayer's cell. One guard remains in his room at all times, awaiting the order to kill him."

Vanir, Arya and the two men stared at the little girl, each wondering the same thing: was this a trap?

"Go, you fools, before I change my mind." Elva grimaced, "Unless you'd rather meet the group of thirty soldiers Galbatorix has looking for you. They will arrive here shortly."

Arya didn't know why, but she decided to do as the girl suggested. Something in Elva's demeanor convinced her that she spoke the truth. And besides, what choice did they have?

She leaped up and barely grabbed the edge of the floor above, hoisting herself up and onto the cold stone floor. Then, she offered a hand to Vanir, who reluctantly followed her.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this. Why should we listen to her?_ He asked.

 _I believe she speaks the truth… but I don't understand her fully. Either way we don't have much of a choice. Her spell… I distinctly got the feeling that she is stronger than you or I in magic._ Arya shivered.

They helped their companions up through the opening in the floor. Immediately, it closed up, leaving them alone in a wide stone hallway with a door to their left.

Following Arya's mental commands, Vanir drew his sword and stood next to the door, laying a hand on the latch. The others prepared as well, Hammond securing an arrow to his bow while his companion brandished a scimitar, Arya drawing both sword and dagger.

At Arya's nod, Vanir opened the door and burst into the room. She followed with caution, prepared for resistance.

Inside, it was not at all like she would have expected for a prison cell. She found herself in a plain room with a cot and a lamp stand. Eragon's sleeping form lay on the cot and a soldier stood beside him.

Once the soldier realized the nature of their visit, which was about the second Vanir and Arya burst in, he drew his sword. But he did not raise his sword to them. Instead, he pulled it over his head, preparing to give his blow to Eragon.

"Back away, or the dragon rider dies!"

Vanir swiftly crossed the room and slipped his blade between the soldier's ribs before the sword could come down. He pushed the body out of the way and scowled at Eragon's dormant form. "It doesn't look like the fool put up much of a fight. He's just sleeping."

Arya said nothing, kneeling at Eragon's side and checking his pulse. He was alive. She tried to wake him, but quickly realized that magic held him. "We cannot bring him out of this sleep; Galbatorix will notice. Vanir, will you carry him? When we are out of the city, I will wake him and he will call Saphira, wherever she is."

Vanir sheathed his sword and tossed Eragon unceremoniously over one shoulder, stepping out of the room.

They continued to the end of the tunnel, where it opened into a gigantic room. Sunlight came in through a hole in the opposite wall, illuminating the polished scales of the black dragon.

Shruikan turned around, his scales shining in the light. He took in a breath and roared at them.

Arya cursed herself a thousand times over. She should have chosen a different hall. Now the king knew their location and, more importantly, so did his dragon.

"Well, there's no point in being subtle about it anymore," she shouted to Vanir. Then she put a hand on Eragon's forehead and murmured a few words in the ancient language. She felt him coming back to her, but then there was a resistance. Galbatorix himself was fighting to keep Eragon unconscious.

"Vanir… a little help?" she shouted, eyeing the black dragon. Shruikan stayed where he was, daring them to attack.

Vanir joined his power with hers and together, they fought Galbatorix's hold on their companion. Sweat rolled down his neck and his eyes burned. Arya, as well, felt her energy abandoning her.

"You… HUMAN!" she cried, pointing to Hammond's companion. She knew he could use magic. "Help us out!" The words themselves seemed to drain even more energy.

The man forced his own consciousness into the fight, pushing against Galbatorix's spell alongside the two elves. His power was weak, but it relieved Arya just enough to give her a second wind. She pushed with all her might. The force keeping Eragon asleep began to waver, and she tried harder.

Eragon sluggishly opened his eyes, unaware of the intense fight that had resulted in his consciousness. First, he saw Arya, her face and neck dripping with sweat. Her hair was frazzled and, for the first time he could remember, she looked utterly exhausted; almost as if she could faint. Then he saw Vanir, standing above him with a scowl. He, too, looked spent.

"Rider," Vanir said, "call your dragon!"

A wave of concern filled Eragon, and he reached out to Saphira. Where was she? Had Galbatorix harmed her? He felt her presence faintly and called out, _Saphira! What happened? Where are you? Where am I?_

Finally, he sat up and looked around. He wished he hadn't. A black dragon stood ready to fight them, but it appeared reluctant to leave its place in the center of the room. All they had against it were two other companions.

 _Eragon! Are you awake?_ Saphira's mind touched his and he instantly felt an intense and sickening wave of pain, fear, and sadness. _They told me you would be asleep; and if I tried to bring you back, they'd kill you._

 _I don't know what is happening, but Arya and Vanir are here. I think we're in Uru'baen, because Shruikan is about to eat us._

 _I'm coming, little one!_

He silently thanked her and reached for his sword. It was gone. He cursed. "What's the plan?" he asked, jumping to his feet.

"Our plan was that you would call your dragon. Where is she?" Vanir sent him a glare.

Eragon quickly checked with Saphira, saying, "She's flying outside the city. It will be a few moments."

Just then, the sound of marching feet reached his ears. All at the same time, he Arya and Vanir turned to see thirty soldiers coming up the hall.

"It's only a matter of time, now that you're awake, before Galbatorix himself comes to greet us. We have to leave." Arya lifted her sword, but her breath came in such short rasps that Eragon doubted she could use it.

Vanir did the same. "Either way, these soldiers aren't going to wait for our ride to come."

Eragon reached for magic and spoke a word of death. Instantly, twelve of the men fell dead. But he wavered. Being asleep for two weeks had weakened him tremendously. Even his muscles seemed shaky. "I can't do that again… I'm far too weak."

"Take my sword," one of their young companions said, handing Eragon a simple sword. "I fight best with my bow." He raised his crossbow and sent an arrow into the stomach of a soldier, fitting another arrow without missing a beat.

Eragon had no time to admire the human's marksmanship. He stood next to Vanir, Arya, and the other man. "May your swords stay sharp," he muttered, just before the group of soldiers came upon them.

He blocked and eluded the first three blows and then cast a blow of his own, hitting one soldier in the gut. Then, he stepped back so they could not surround him and fought two or three at a time, parrying their attacks and making his own.

But the soldiers kept coming. And his strength was so depleted after his slumber that he felt the energy drain from his body. Arya and Vanir were having similar troubles, sluggishly blocking a few blows here and there and barely dodging others.

The human with scimitars was already dead and the battle had just begun. Eragon touched Saphira's mind and then shouted, "COME WITH ME!"

Vanir and Arya followed him, the bowman close behind. They ran away from the soldiers, toward the opening in the far wall.

The soldiers stopped short, fearing the black dragon. But Eragon and the others charged forward.

Just before they reached the dragon, a mighty roar came through the opening and Saphira flew through, challenging Shruikan with a burst of flame through her mouth.

Shruikan turned around, his attention fully occupied with Saphira. Eragon took advantage of this, running around the mighty dragon. But he tripped suddenly and crashed to the floor.

Pain shot up through his left arm, and he looked back to see what hideous object had caused his fall. There rested the silver dragon egg.

Eragon snatched it up, heart pounding, and jumped to his feet, nearly shaking with adrenaline.

Arya and the others caught up and they ran past Shruikan for Saphira.

The black dragon reached in a desperate attempt to stop their escape. His jaws came down on the last in the line, the archer whose name was Hammond.

By the time Shruikan had finished off their companion, Vanir and Eragon were already on Saphira, pulling Arya up behind them.

Shruikan breathed in and let out a giant burst of flame, but Saphira was already flying through the hole in the wall.

Shruikan attempted to follow; but, having been in the room guarding the silver egg far too long, he found he had long outgrown the hole.


	8. Gains and Losses

**Chapter 8**

Nasuada slumped back in her chair and took a drink of water. The day was hot, and she could hardly bear the humidity. On top of everything, she was anxious to hear from the rescue party. They had left twelve days before and she feared for their lives. The stress of sitting in an orderly study while they faced the most powerful man in the known world was tremendous. She would rather have joined the group herself.

Murmuring outside her study door brought Nasuada back to reality, and she sat up straight.

Muffled voices spoke rapidly outside. She began to grow nervous, wondering at the disturbance.

"I DO NOT NEED A BLOODY ANNOUNCEMENT!" Eragon's voice cried out.

The door burst open and Eragon strode through, bowing brusquely to Nasuada. Arya and Vanir soon followed.

"Nasuada," he began, "I apologize for foolishly letting down my guard and allowing Murtagh to capture me. But some good has come out of this ordeal." He pulled an object out from under his cloak and placed it on her desk.

She gasped. It was a silver egg the length of her forearm. The polished surface shone even in the dark room. Nasuada felt transfixed by the smooth shell, and she felt a strong pulse of energy, like a hum, emanating from the powerful object. She caught her breath, "It's…"

"The last egg in Alagaesia," Eragon finished solemnly. Then a flicker of hatred and pain crossed his face. "But it will not be the only one for long." His eyes fell.

Confusion briefly filled Nasuada's mind before she realized the meaning of his statement: Saphira was to produce an egg. "I am so sorry, Eragon," she whispered. A mixture of hope and sorrow struggled within her. Another egg would surely benefit the Varden, but she understood the pain Eragon must be going through having slept through his dragon's torture.

"You needn't be sorry, My Lady," he said, suddenly becoming much more formal. His face was emotionless. "Forgive me for asking, but have you discovered the fate of my cousin?"

"He and the Ra'zac's previous prisoner have been broken out of prison and are on their way here as we speak," she answered. "They weren't guarded well because they weren't considered dangerous or valuable to the empire. We are fortunate for that."

A look of relief filled his face, and then he seemed to remember why he was there. "With your permission, I will keep the egg with me at all times for safekeeping."

Nasuada considered his proposal, honestly wondering if he was strong enough to protect it properly. But he was a Rider, and that made him the most powerful member of the Varden. Even if he was careless sometime, the egg would be safest in his care. "I grant you permission to keep the egg safe until I decide what must be done with it."

"Lady," Arya said. She sounded as if she might burst. "If it is not too bold, I would advise you to allow the elves to take it back to Ellesmera. After all, an elven rider would be very good for our cause." The unspoken hint of Eragon's ignorance hung in the air.

Nasuada noticed Eragon wince.

"I will decide what to do with it next, if that is quite alright, Arya. All I can think of is what happened the last time a dragon egg was transported from Du Weldenvarden." Nasuada didn't bother to take the sting out of her voice.

Though Arya's face remained blank, everyone in the room felt tension rising. Last time Arya was assigned to take Saphira's egg to and from the Varden, she had been captured by Durza.

Eragon broke the silence, clearing his throat. "I will take the egg then. With your permission, I would like to be with Saphira."

"You may leave. I wish to speak with Arya and Vanir myself."

He left awkwardly, clutching the egg to his chest.

When the door latched shut, Nasuada turned to Arya. "Do not insult my authority in front of my only vassal, elf. I may be human, but I am not stupid. Yes, an elven Rider would be best for the Varden right now. But let's not forget that the most promising and most powerful elves are in this city right now. I will consult with the council before allowing them to see the egg, but not because of your rude remarks. I will do it because it's the wisest decision."

"I do not care why you do it," Arya murmured, "so long as it's done. Our last hope is in an elven Rider."

"You have no faith in Eragon?" Nasuada scowled.

Vanir laughed, speaking for the first time. "It takes faith to believe that Eragon will save us. That is a problem."

Nasuada began to feel nervous. Eragon was more powerful than any other servant of the Varden. How much did that take exactly? She did not understand magical affairs, and they never ceased to confuse her. "If Eragon is incompetent, would the blame not fall unto his teacher? You were his trainer when he traveled north, were you not?"

Vanir looked as if he might jump over her desk and attack her. "Eragon was born incompetent, and we've only been able to beat half of it out."

"Leave me," Nasuada ordered. "And you'll do well to hold your tongue if ever we are in each other's presence again."

Vanir and Arya strode away from the study together. "You could have been nicer," Arya whispered in the ancient language.

"What about you? I thought you were going to start yelling at her!"

"I was not! Her pride just annoys me. She is above taking others' advice, even if it's good advice."

He laughed. "Just like you, Arya."

She glared at him. "And you aren't proud, Vanir?"

"Not in the least. I'm concerned for our people because their fate rests in the hands of Eragon, but that is all. With this new egg, we could have a chance to destroy Galbatorix once and for all."

"Such an optimist," she muttered. "What if it hatches for a human? What would we do?" The question had been bothering her ever since they left Uru'baen.

"Let us hope it does not hatch for a human. That isn't in our control anyway. We could parade every elf in the world past the egg and it wouldn't hatch for any of them if it desired a human. I'll never understand why any dragon would choose to degrade itself by a link with a human."

She sighed. "We are too hard on humans. They aren't all completely incompetent. That man in our group, Hammond son of Regulus, he showed true spirit. I will visit his family, I think. He saved my life."

"Two of our kind died in Uru'baen and you mourn over a single human? I thought I knew you, Arya." Vanir turned away.

"I mourn our people, too, Vanir! You don't think their memory haunts my every thought?" she called in the ancient language. And then she added, in common tongue, "And you know nothing about me!"

He laughed. She had failed to say the last part in the ancient language. "May you find peace, Arya Drottningu."

Eragon pulled the hood of a cloak over his head despite the heat, trekking out of the city. It concealed his face enough to keep from being recognized. People of Aberon knew his face too well for him to be safe from well-wishers and beggars. He had no heart for speaking to anyone now, with the shroud of Saphira's pain consuming him.

Once outside the city, he met Saphira and she flew him to a remote hill, where they sat watching the sunset. He took out the egg and held it in his arms, pondering who its destined Rider would be.

 _Is it foolish of me to wish that my future mate is confined within that shell?_ Saphira asked sadly. Her spirits had reached their all time low and stayed there since Uru'baen.

 _Not at all, Saphira,_ he replied. _It's only natural for you to wish that._

 _I should not be planning the future of this egg already,_ she argued. _It may not hatch for ages - we could be gone by then._

 _You're not the only one planning its future,_ he murmured, telling her of the discussion in Nasuada's office. _Everyone has their hopes on an elven Rider. And they aren't very patient. I believe our next trip will be to take this egg to the elves._

 _It matters not what we think; in the end, the egg will choose for itself despite our best efforts._

Eragon sighed, leaning back against Saphira's warm stomach. _I'm sorry I was weak, Saphira. I should have seen Murtagh's attack and blocked it. That way we wouldn't be in this situation._

Saphira lowered her head. All that he could feel from her was pain and sorrow. _Little one, it has all turned out for the best. If Murtagh had not captured us, we would not have the silver dragon egg, nor would I be carrying another egg within me. All has come out better in the long run._

 _No it hasn't, Saphira. No one should ever feel as you do now. I should have been there instead of sleeping in a prison chamber._ Saphira's sadness combined with his began to overwhelm him, and he cried into her stomach. _If I could take your pain away, I would._

She rested her nose against his stomach. _I will survive, Eragon, and so will you. We will get beyond this and be all the stronger because of it. Galbatorix thinks he has hurt us, but he has not. Instead, he has brought us closer together and strengthened our bond._

Eragon wiped his face and looked into her sapphire eyes. _Galbatorix and Shruikan will pay for this, Saphira._

 _Stop talking of senseless revenge, Eragon. We shall destroy them because it must be done, not because it will make us feel better. And they have already paid for their deeds tenfold because now they have no eggs and we have two._

He smiled. _Yes, we do._


	9. Subtle Suggestion

**Chapter 9**

The sun set slowly. Eragon and Saphira watched it disappear entirely below the horizon, each content with the presence of the other even though they spoke little.

 _We should return,_ Eragon pointed out, _but first, there's something I need to discuss with you._

 _What is it?_

He sighed. _It's the dream I told you about before; the one with Nasuada and Murtagh. It wasn't just a dream and you know that._

 _Of course I know that. What about the dream?_

 _I want to know if we should tell Nasuada. It might better prepare her for what is to come._

Saphira pondered the matter. _No. She does not understand premonitions, nor will she believe entirely that it was a premonition. It is hard to imagine unless you've had one._

 _But we have to do something. He might kill her—not to mention all of the other people who would die if she did._

 _We aren't going to sit back and let it happen, Eragon. But we are not going to tell her either. Just put wards around her study; that way you will at least know if Murtagh shows up._

Eragon grudgingly agreed. It didn't feel right keeping the dream to himself, but he knew it was the only way. _Let us return to the castle now, Saphira. They will be wondering._

She stretched her wings and bent down so he could climb up, then leaped into the air. He relished the breeze in his face, closing his eyes and reaching his arms out to greet the wind's embrace.

 _To fly is to be truly free,_ he thought contentedly.

 _The sky is our only home,_ Saphira added.

Arya, always one to keep a promise, hesitated in front of the cabin. Nasuada had given her permission to do this. For a moment, she considered turning back and asking someone else to deliver the message.

She felt ashamed for being so cowardly. _I am an elf warrior. I have seen thousands of people die. This should be simple enough._ But the thought of informing Hammond son of Regulus's wife and three sons that he died fighting at her side was sickening still.

In one last attempt to keep her word, she lifted her arm and knocked ever so quietly on the door. Maybe, if she was lucky, no one would hear and she could say she tried.

But Arya had no such luck. The instant she knocked, a woman inside pulled the door open. She had frazzled hair and worried eyes. On her hip was a babe of only one year, no more.

"Yes? Are you here to bring news of my husband?" she inquired, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering. It didn't work.

"Mistress Hammond, would you mind if I come in?" She tried to smile. Dueling and sword fighting came easily to her, but bringing a young widow the worst news of her life was difficult.

The woman stepped aside. "Come on in. I have some tea on the stove if it pleases you."

"I will have some, if that's quite all right." Arya pulled back her hood and stepped through the doorway. It was a small cabin with a table, bed, stove, and bookcase all in one room. Two boys, both under the age of five, played by the stove with wooden swords.

"You're…" The woman stood speechless, staring blankly at Arya's pointed ears.

"I'm Arya. Please do not be ill at ease." Arya strode to the table and sat down, pulling her gloves off and absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. "I am informed that you call yourself Uleana?"

"Yes, My Lady." Uleana set her youngest son on the floor and began pouring some tea, never once meeting Arya's eye.

She set some tea in front of Arya and sat across the table, folding her hands solemnly. "Let us get straight to the point now. This is about my husband?" The hopeful trace of question hung in her voice.

Arya slowly took a sip of the steamy liquid. "What do you know about your husband's mission, Uleana?"

"I know it was of great importance…" she looked away, tears in her eyes. "You're going to tell me he's dead." It was not a question.

"Uleana, your husband was a true warrior." Arya awkwardly glanced away, for Uleana began to sob. "He saved my life and the life of countless others with his deeds."

Uleana was trying to keep back the tears out of respect; that was obvious. But she failed terribly. "He… he told me this would be his last mission. I did not believe him."

The two boys stopped playing and walked to either side of their mother. The eldest one, a young replica of his father, put a hand on his mother's shoulder and said, "What's wrong, Mama?"

She quickly dried her tears and attempted to put on a pleasant face. "Nothing, honey. I'm just tired. Will you and Oliver go get a load of firewood for me? Make it enough to last all of tomorrow, okay?"

The young boy nodded, puffing out his chest with pride. "I'll get so much wood you'll never have to go out again, Mama. Come along, Oliver!"

Once the two boys were out the door, Uleana turned to Arya. "Tell me what fate has come upon my husband." Her lip quivered, but she gazed steadily at Arya.

"You have a strong spirit, Uleana. That much I can tell." Arya couldn't help but admire the woman's inner strength. "Hammond died a hero. He was on a secret mission into the castle at Uru'baen."

"Uru'baen?" a sob escaped Uleana's throat. "I do not want to know how he died then."

"He died quickly. And only the mightiest of foes could bring him down, I assure you. In his honor, you will have the support of my people and the Varden. Were it not for your husband, I would be dead. And so would Eragon Shadeslayer."

Uleana nodded. "Thank you for coming." She sighed and hid her face behind her hands, whispering, "What am I to tell the boys?"

Arya stood. "You'll tell them that their father was a good man and a hero. If ever you find yourself in need of a home, my people in Du Weldenvarden will welcome you. Find peace, Uleana of Surda, and may the stars watch over you." She strode to the door and slipped away, leaving the widow to her grief.

Two children stood gathering wood from the large pile outside.

"You should be proud of your father," She said to them before pulling a hood over her head and disappearing into the night.

Only two streets later, Vanir stepped out of the shadows in front of her. "I knew you were following me," she said grimly. "Do you find it amusing to eavesdrop on my private conversations?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry about following you. But what you did in there… it was kind of you." He spoke in the ancient language.

"It was the least I could do. I know what it is like to lose a love."

"You are strong, Arya. But the reason I sought you out is to apologize for my unkind words earlier. It was foolish of me to hint that you don't care about our people. And you are right; I am too hard on humans."

"I didn't need your input to know I was right," she said coldly, turning on her heel.

He deserved her rigid manner and both of them knew it. "May the stars watch over you," he whispered after her.

Eragon awoke to Saphira's prodding.

 _There's a servant here, Eragon. He's terrified of me; you should speak to him._

He grumbled a little and then stirred, blinking in the light. The night before, he had chosen to stay in the courtyard with Saphira rather than retire to his quarters. Now the sun was rising over the palace walls and his back was stiff from sleeping on the ground.

A servant of fifteen or sixteen years stood hesitantly at the far end of the courtyard. He seemed caught between wanting to retrieve Eragon yet trying not to approach Saphira.

Eragon stood, yawning. "Are you here for me?"

"Yes, Shadeslayer. Lady Nasuada requests your presence after breakfast."

"I suspected as much," Eragon said. "I will join her. Thank you."

"Where would you like your breakfast brought, sir?"

"Me? In my quarters is fine. And you may call me Eragon. What is your name?" he inquired.

"Jarome, sir." He nervously bowed. "I will be your personal servant while you stay here."

"Very well then, Jarome. Please inform the Lady that I will join her shortly."

The young man left Eragon and Saphira in the courtyard.

 _Jumpy fellow, isn't he?_ Saphira hummed in amusement.

 _I can't blame him,_ Eragon said, _you can be pretty terrifying._ He laughed. _Anyway, I should wash up. 'Don't want to come before Nasuada looking like I slept outside or anything…_

He returned to his quarters and dunked his head into a washbowl. The cool water sent shivers down his spine, but it was refreshing. Then, he shaved using magic and combed his hair.

Jarome brought in a tray packed with bread and fruit. Eragon thanked him graciously and dug in, eating to his contentment.

When he finally came to Nasuada's office, it was late morning. The guards in front of her door glanced warily at him. Their encounter the day before had been less than pleasant, for Eragon's temperament could have been better. "Will you wait for an announcement today, Shadeslayer?"

"I believe I will, Tobias," Eragon said, curiously exploring the guards' minds. "Forgive me for being so hot-tempered yesterday."

Tobias grimaced, saying nothing, and then entered Nasuada's study to announce Eragon.

Nasuada stood up. "Eragon, come in. We have much to discuss."

He pushed past the guards and into her office. Tobias closed the door behind him. "Nasuada, your guards are loyal to their cause and also loyal to you. You choose your servants wisely."

"Thank you," she said, surprised, "I shall pass on your compliment. Now for the matters at hand; I have requested you have your own study, since you will be tending to the affairs of Du Vrangr Gata while here. After our meeting, Jarome will show you to it."

"I will appreciate a place to work."

"I'm sure you will. But I am also informed that you should continue your training with the sword and with magic. Every day you will join the elves in their encampment for further instruction in those areas. After all, the Varden can hardly teach you anything."

"And will I present the egg to the elves?" Eragon inquired.

Nasuada sighed. "The council has denied my proposal for bringing the egg before elven warriors. They fear that the elves would have too much power with a Rider of their own, the fools. But if the egg is at your side while you are in the camp and happens to hatch for an elf, I will not hold it against you." She smiled.

"Aye, My Lady." He grinned at her subtle suggestion. "Is that all?"

"For now, yes. But I may need your input on future matters. That is why your study is not far from mine."

"Thank you, Nasuada. I will begin my duties as temporary leader of Du Vrangr Gata now, if it is alright."

"Yes, do. And take care of yourself, Eragon. Along with that egg."


	10. Hatchling

**Chapter 10**

He bowed his head to Nasuada and left. Outside the door, he paused to whisper a few sentences in the ancient language. Now a ward was set around the room and he would know if anyone entered by way of magic. Of course, he did not specify protection against physical entry; people came and went through that door dozens of times each day. And it was fully guarded against physical break-ins.

Jarome met him and led him down one hall into his own study. It was not a large room, but the desk in the center would serve its purpose.

"Thank you, Jarome," Eragon said, sitting down behind the desk and picking up a pile of papers that were already waiting for him.

"I am outside the door if you need me, Sir."

"Mmm Hmm…" Eragon wasn't listening. Already he was enveloped in the world of Du Vrangr Gata. They had a meager group of magic users in Aberon, but most of their valuable members were spies throughout the Empire. He observed their reports and evaluated different accounts of Galbatorix's actions. Most were worried messages about Saphira being spotted over Uru'baen. But more recent ones showed that a red dragon was flying the countryside.

He was pulled back into reality only when Jarome brought in lunch. But after eating, he continued his work. He even observed the messages exchanged between Trianna and a spy from Dras Leona prior to his cousin's rescue.

By late evening, Eragon had prepared a list of things to improve their spy network. He sent word for Trianna so they might go over some of the things. She, being the former leader of Du Vrangr Gata, should have a say in the changes.

"Argetlam," she murmured, curtsying.

"Please sit down, Trianna. We are equals here."

She scowled a little, but took his advice.

"I have evaluated our spy network and must compliment you on your efforts. It is well planned out, that is certain. But one thing has caught my eye. Though we have dozens of spies in Dras Leona, and Teirm; and loads of them in Uru'baen, there are next to none in all of Surda."

Trianna looked surprised—shocked almost. "Sir, we don't want to cause tension between Surda and the Varden." She spoke almost as if to a child. "I thought you would have seen that."

"Indeed, I see the reasoning behind that conclusion, yes. We do not wish to spy on Surda, but Galbatorix does. It is only fair that there are spies of ours searching for his. Does that make sense?"

"Well, yes; but us placing spies in this land could be misinterpreted a thousand ways. Orrin would not be pleased if he found out, to say the least."

"That's why we tell him of the spies. He is a reasonable man and will understand our motives."

She looked down a little. Eragon almost felt sorry for challenging her leadership, but he knew it must be done. "I understand. I will station more spies in Surda immediately."

"Thank you. Now about your method of communicating…"

They spoke for nearly two hours, haggling over proper ancient-language terms and debating about the spy placement until each person was too exhausted to defend their position any longer. Only then did Eragon dismiss a very frustrated Trianna.

It was nearly sunset once again and he had not seen Saphira since that morning. He knew she had been hunting, but he longed to see her.

They met in the courtyard and flew over the city, enjoying each other's company and recounting the events of the day.

 _So tomorrow you will train with the elves?_ Saphira said, _and you will bring the egg?_

 _I have to protect it, haven't I?_ He grinned. _This is the perfect opportunity for Nasuada to expose the egg to elven warriors without permission. 'Very clever of her._

 _Yes. I hope it hatches._

 _So does everyone else. I fear it might disappoint us._

The elven camp was outside the city, for the elven warriors preferred sleeping under the stars rather than on top of smooth mattresses. Eragon walked between the tents, greeting elves in the customary manner along the way. As he did so, his hand stroked the smooth surface of a dragon egg inside his sack. Not even the slightest tremor interrupted the hard shell.

He asked an elf maiden where he was to be trained and was quickly given instructions to the far side of the camp.

 _Good,_ he thought, _the more elves I come near, the better._

But as he trekked across the encampment, the egg remained solid and still. Even though he knew better than to expect its hatching, he felt disappointed.

Vanir met him at the edge of the camp. "Are you ready, Shur'tugal?"

Eragon sighed. He had hoped his instructor was anyone but Vanir. Nevertheless, he held up his sack for Saphira to snag. The azure dragon flew directly above him and snatched it with her claws, landing a few hundred paces away to watch the lesson while guarding the precious cargo.

Eragon stretched his arms and then swung his sword a few times to get warmed up. "I am ready," he said, dulling his sword with magic and preparing for an attack.

He and Vanir circled each other for a few moments, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Eragon lost his patience and lunged at his opponent, beginning a complex routine. Vanir parried perfectly, of course, moving with equal speed and grace. Their swords moved in such a flurry, one could hardly tell whose was whose.

Vanir launched a very strong attack at Eragon, jabbing earnestly at the Rider and occasionally pulling a "show off" move or two just to prove his superiority. Eragon fought to defend himself, but found his muscles weakening. Again he was reminded of his unnaturally long slumber in Uru'baen and how weak it had left him.

His movements slowed ever so slightly, and Vanir took full advantage of it. He fought harder and faster than before, pushing Eragon into a frantic state.

As many times as Eragon tried to reverse the situation, Vanir's sword was always there blocking him. After only a few moments, Vanir's sword found its way into Eragon's side. He doubled over, clutching the ribs that were surely broken from the blow. Even with the magically dulled blades, the swords were enough to cause much pain.

Vanir offered a hand to Eragon and he took it, climbing to his feet. He would need to fix the ribs with magic. But first, embarrassed, Eragon instinctively looked around to see who had witnessed his defeat.

Arya stood only a few paces away, observing with her arms crossed. "You have improved much since I first fought you in Farthen Dur, Eragon."

"I still could not beat you," he mumbled, trying to keep his face from flushing.

"Do not be a fool, Eragon. If you stood firm against Vanir for a respectable amount of time, that's no worse than I can do." She looked amused at his assumptions.

Eragon wondered if it was true. Since their spar in Farthen Dur, he had idolized her abilities. But now that he had been trained, he could not trust his memory of the elf's skills.

"Care to try again, Shur'tugal?" Vanir arched an eyebrow.

Eragon quickly healed his wound with Saphira's aid and readied for another spar. Vanir won once again, but it was a much closer round. In the end, Eragon was pleased with his progress even though every inch of his body ached from the effort.

The following morning, he arrived once more to spar. They fought three times; Eragon won once.

He did not bother to heal his bruises that day. Instead, he headed back to his study in the castle. The injuries would heal themselves and he would come back stronger in a couple of days.

"Vanir and Arya of Ellesmera are here to answer your call, My Lady," Nasuada's guard announced.

"Send them in, Tobias," Nasuada said.

The two elves entered, nodding respectfully to her.

Nasuada started to speak, but was interrupted by Vanir.

"Before you speak, I would like to apologize for my disrespectful words during our last meeting. It was cruel to speak of Shurtugal Eragon in that way."

"Yes, about that… I have called you here to inquire about those comments. You said, I believe, that it required faith to believe Eragon will save us?" Nasuada asked.

"Yes."

"I want you to tell me truthfully how much power Eragon wields in comparison to Galbatorix and in comparison to the elves. Please put it in perspective for me—and for God's sake, be honest. I cannot lead the Varden wisely if I am overestimating Eragon's abilities or lack thereof."

Vanir sighed.

Arya, deciding to answer the question for him, said, "We cannot measure him against Galbatorix because we do not know how powerful Galbatorix is exactly. And we cannot compare him to the elves, because some of us are more powerful than others."

"Just give me a straight answer. Is he competent? Is he as knowledgeable and powerful as, say, you two are? More powerful maybe?" Nasuada was fed up with answers that really didn't answer her questions.

"He, with Saphira's aid, is able to wield more power than any normal elf can dream of. What Eragon lacks, occasionally, is good judgment—and I mean that in the most respectful way. He is learning," Arya responded.

Vanir added, "Arya and I both have more knowledge than Eragon, yet he is capable of far more complex spells. And his skill with the blade is adequate. Probably better than Galbatorix and Murtaugh, given Eragon's heightened senses. Yet, as Arya said, he lacks judgment."

Nasuada felt relieved with their answer. Apprehension drained from her spirit and she pulled up in her seat. "Thank you for your honesty. I have thus far been left completely in the dark concerning this matter and it relieves me to know that there is hope."

She was about to dismiss them when Tobias once again came into the room. "My Lady, Trianna of Du Vrangr Gata is here to see you, along with two others: Roran and Katrina of Carvahall. She says you will wish to interrogate them."

Eragon was just finishing up a message to one of the Dras Leona spies when Jarome entered through the double doors. "Yes?" Eragon asked.

"Lady Nasuada wishes to have your audience, Sir."

"I will be along, Jarome," he murmured. "'Just finishing this assignment."

"She wishes your audience now, Sir."

Eragon looked up with concern, but did not ask any questions. He strode out of the room and down the hall to the door of Nasuada's office. The guard opened the door to announce him, but before the words could escape his mouth, Nasuada's voice said, "Let him in."

Entering the room, Eragon immediately spotted a familiar face. "Roran!" he shouted, rushing forward to embrace his cousin. "It's about time you came back."

Roran laughed. "It wasn't too bad in prison; three meals a day and I didn't have to do work. But I'm glad to be back."

Eragon laughed, nodding to Katrina.

"I thought you might be pleased to see them," Nasuada said, smiling. "You all surely have a lot to catch up on; I will dismiss you. Vanir and Arya, you may also be dis…" But she did not finish the sentence; for, at that moment, a distinct tapping noise interrupted her.

"What is that?" Roran asked, looking at Eragon's satchel where the noise emanated.

"It's the egg!" Vanir cried.

Eragon stood stunned for just a second before pulling the sack off his shoulder and setting the silver egg on the stone floor.

Roran, Katrina, Arya, Vanir, and Eragon stood in a circle around the object, listening as the tapping grew louder and more desperate.

"Who is it hatching for?" Nasuada asked, stepping out from behind her desk, yet observing from a distance still. Her eyes widened with shock and hope.

"We won't know until it gifts its true Rider with the Gidwey Ignasia," Arya said quietly, her eyes never moving from the egg.

At last, the silvery shell split in two. And out of it emerged a dragon hatchling.


	11. Mark of a Rider

**Chapter 11**

Murtagh entered the strategy room with unease. He still had not located Eragon and knew that Galbatorix would not be pleased.

To his surprise, the king was not alone in the room. He sat on his throne, listening patiently to a woman before him speak. She was in a plain gown with his crest embroidered on the sleeve and a curved blade was at her belt.

"Adriana served you faithfully, Sire, but I can do so much more. Eliminating her was a service to you. She was weak with magic. I can do more than she could have imagined. Please accept my service and my blade." She drew the sword and knelt down, presenting it to Galbatorix.

"I am pleased with your cooperation—what's your name?"

She stood, sheathing her sword. "I am Goroth, but considering my circumstances, I should keep the old name."

"Your choice." Galbatorix said.

To Murtagh's surprise, for he hadn't noticed the girl before, Elva stepped forward from her place next to the throne. "Goroth, have you served under a master before?"

"No. I have always been my own master, for none have equaled me in strength until now."

"And now that you've found one who is stronger than you, will you heed his commands and remain loyal until death takes you?"

"Death. Bah!" she cackled to herself. "Yes, I swear. Until death."

Elva turned to Galbatorix. "The truth has been spoken. She cannot betray you. Though, if given a chance, she would."

He nodded slowly. "Leave us, Goroth. I will call upon you when in need of your services."

Murtagh stepped aside to allow the Lady's exit, eyeing her suspiciously. He didn't like the sound of their conversation and suspected the secrets behind it.

"Come forward, Rider," Galbatorix said coldly.

Murtagh did as he said. If he refused an order, the king would force it upon him. There was no point in resisting.

"Once again, you come before me without an egg and without a Rider. What is your excuse this time?"

"Master, the Rider Eragon has escaped on his dragon. No doubt they are already in Surda with the surviving eggs. Searching the countryside like this is useless when they have already found shelter with our enemies." Right then he knew he had crossed the line.

Galbatorix stood up from his throne and shouted a curse in the ancient language.

Murtagh had no time to react. The pain crept up his spine and filled every inch of his body. It was as if a thousand daggers were stabbing him from the inside out. He would have passed out from the agony, but the king would not allow it. For many minutes, he remained fully conscious, aware of every inch of his body being tortured under the command of his master.

At last, the pain ended, and he slumped to the floor, gasping for breath.

Galbatorix strode to him, heavy boots falling thunderously against the floor. "Once again, you have failed me. I will send someone who is competent after the Rider, and they will not fail. Meanwhile, you will not be harmed further. But Thorn…"

Murtagh turned his head and looked fearfully at the king. "No."

Eragon instinctively stepped away from the circle, knowing that he could not possibly be the one. But he watched the baby dragon very closely, wondering who its Rider would be.

"Arya," Nasuada said, "touch it. It is best for the Varden."

"It will choose by itself," Arya murmured. "If someone touches it besides the true Rider, nothing will happen."

The silver hatchling stood up shakily, stretching out its wings and letting a puff of smoke escape its nostrils. Eragon was reminded of Saphira's first moments out of the shell; she too was completely irresistible. This young dragon had the lightest of silver scales that shone brightly in the candle light. His eyes were black and perfectly round, gazing about the room with a curious, yet shy look.

"What do you mean? A dragon chooses its Rider?" Katrina asked, clearly confused.

"Silence! This is an important occasion, girl!" Vanir shot an irritated look at Katrina before looking back to the dragon.

Arya sank to her knees, laying her hands palm-up on her lap as if to humbly offer the dragon her service. Vanir followed suit.

Everyone watched intently while the hatchling waddled toward them a few steps, curiously sniffing the air. To their dismay, he quickly lost interest in the two elves and made his way between them—straight for Nasuada. The black eyes did not waver from her one bit.

"What's it doing?" Nasuada asked, biting her lip. To the dragon, she said, "No… shoo! Go the other way."

But the dragon continued crawling straight for her. She stepped away and retreated behind her desk. It followed.

Vanir stood, disappointment written on his face. "It has chosen you, My Lady. Reach down and touch it with your left hand; that way you may fight with your right while using magic with your left.

"No. There is something wrong," she said, standing on her chair to keep the dragon from touching her. "I am not the one! This cannot be happening. I'm leader of the Varden, not a Rider."

Arya's face was blank and emotionless. "Do not be a fool, Nasuada. Touch the dragon. It has obviously chosen you and there is nothing we can do about it."

Nasuada bit her lip so hard it began to bleed. "We need a strong Rider. Not me." She contained a sob before it escaped her throat. "Anyone but me. Please." Now she was crying. Her knees weakened and she sat down on the chair, arms wrapped around her legs.

The silver dragon shakily tried to climb up the chair leg, groaning a little, but failed. It fell to the floor and got right back to its feet.

Eragon watched with sorrow in his heart. He felt for Nasuada. She knew the consequences of an untrained human becoming a Rider. The Varden would have a rough road ahead. "It's the only way, Nasuada."

She looked down at the hatchling, laughing through the tears at its desperate attempts to climb the chair. Hesitantly, she reached her left hand down and touched the dragon's head. Another sob came out and she pulled it back. The hand now bore a glistening gidwey ignasia.

No one spoke for many moments. Nasuada cried into her hands, now marked with the sign of a Rider. Then she pulled the dragon into her lap and hugged him. Eragon could tell they were already sharing emotions, for the dragon began quaking with tiny sobs as his Rider cried.

Eragon felt uncomfortable witnessing this important moment between dragon and Rider. He knew he should leave, yet he didn't. Mesmerized by the scene before him, he found his legs did not heed his command.

Nasuada finally wiped her face with the sleeve of her gown and stood, cradling the baby dragon tenderly. "There is only one path for me now. I must resign as leader of the Varden and be trained in the ways of magic, however futile it may be."

"It isn't futile," Eragon began, but Roran cut him off.

"Why would you resign because of a dragon?"

Arya glowered at him. "Being a Rider and the commander of a rebellion is far too much power or responsibility for one person. And besides, Nasuada will need to devote all of her time to studying the language of magic from now on."

Nasuada nodded. "When shall we begin?"

"As soon as possible. With your permission, Eragon will take you to Ellesmera, where you will be fully trained by my people." Arya sighed.

"But your finest spell weavers are here in Aberon. Why not stay? It will be more convenient," said Nasuada.

"There is one in my home who has more knowledge than all of our finest spell weavers combined. You must go to him."

Nasuada looked very frustrated and almost insulted that Arya was giving her an order, yet calmed down a little, stroking the silver hatchling and taking in a deep breath. "I must inform the council."

"They might not like the idea of you being trained by the elves," Eragon said. "After all, they didn't want the egg to hatch for an elf for fear of giving them too much power."

"I will go to Du Weldenvarden with or without their permission. I have sworn fealty to no one and I make my own choices."

Eragon admired her strength, but doubted it would be so easy to deny the council. "We should leave you, Nasuada. I know you would like to spend some time with your dragon now."

She nodded gratefully. "Yes, please. I'd like a few moments. Everything I've worked for has just been cast aside as useless, and a new future has been thrust upon me. The least I can have is a few moments alone. Well… almost alone." She glanced sorrowfully down at the dragon, yet her eyes still shown with love for the little being.

They left, filing out of the room without a noise.

Eragon could sense Roran and Katrina's confusion, and knew that they had a hundred questions about the previous scene, but did not pay attention. There was someone else who needed a full recount of the happenings.


	12. Premonition

**Chapter 12**

Eragon met Saphira in the courtyard once again and rushed to her side, allowing her to search his memory for every detail of the silver dragon. They had been linked during the scene, but she re-examined the whole incident with interest.

 _We have a rough path ahead,_ she commented.

 _Indeed, but we must not doubt the dragon's choice._ Eragon rested his head on her smooth scales. _After all, no one though you should have picked a farm boy like me—and at least you and I are happy with that choice._

 _I never for a moment doubted the dragon's choice. I'm just commenting that we have a rough road. I am happy for the hatchling; at last he has found his true companion._

He nodded. _I feel for Nasuada right now. While feeling love and joy, as her dragon feels, she is miserable about the consequences. Of all people, she should know how difficult the road ahead will be. Another leader must be chosen to lead the Varden, and the adjustment might not be so smooth as it was when she became leader._

 _Nasuada will choose wisely. I have confidence in her._

 _I hope you are right,_ said Eragon.

Arya and Vanir walked side-by-side through the city, ignoring the curious glances of pedestrians who had never seen elves. For a long time, neither one spoke. Each was trapped in their own thoughts, unwilling to commentate the events in Nasuada's study.

Finally, Vanir spoke. "Well, there's still Saphira's egg…"

"It is not like you to be so optimistic," Arya snapped.

"I'm not being optimistic because it's in my nature; I'm being optimistic so you don't tire yourself with regret." He looked back at her, but she failed to return the glance.

"What makes you think I would tire myself with something as useless as regret? Nasuada is a Rider. Regret can do nothing to change that. A human has stolen our last chance for another weapon against Galbatorix."

"Nasuada understands the situation. Do not take out your frustration out on her," Vanir said.

Arya stopped abruptly, whirling around to face him. "Let me get this straight: YOU are telling ME not to be frustrated with a human? You are always the first to point out the faults in their reasoning and criticize their very nature. Do not speak to me right now. I'm going back to my tent and I'll probably throw a few things and break all of my possessions. But do not judge me, Vanir-vodhr. I don't need that from you."

"So now you insult me with a lower title than my status demands? I didn't think you could go so low, Arya." He shook his head.

"Do not address your princess so informally," she spat. "Leave me in peace."

He bowed, saying, "As you wish, Arya Drottningu. And may the stars watch over you." His manner was on the line between politeness and sarcasm.

She did not honor him with a reply, but left through the crowd, making her way to the elven camp.

 _The room itself was unclear and out of focus, but two figures in its center, behind a desk, were quite clear._

" _I am here for the egg. Where is it?"_

" _You will not find it here, Murtagh."_

" _Then I shall search elsewhere. If you try and stop me, I cannot hesitate to kill you." He reached for her, resting a hand tenderly on her cheek. She grabbed it and pushed it away._

 _He looked at her hand, an expression of dread crossing his face. There, on her left palm, was a shining oval spot. "I see how it is. Now I should kill you, Nasuada."_

" _There is nothing I can do to stop you," she said. "Do it."_

 _He drew his sword and lunged at her. Nasuada leaped aside and pulled a sword of her own from the folds of her dress. "Murtagh, you have become a tool. When was the last time you did anything by your own command?"_

 _Their swords clashed, meeting in an X between them._

" _Are you nothing more than his puppet?" She asked, pushing his sword away._

 _Murtagh thrust his sword right for her heart, but she evaded it. "You know nothing," he spat vehemently. Their swords clashed once more, and then again. With one final blow, he knocked the sword out of her hand, rendering her weaponless._

" _Do it quickly," she requested in a quiet voice, backing up against the wall and tensing in preparation for the blow._

Eragon awoke with a start, drawing his sword and leaping to his feet. "NO!" he shouted.

 _Eragon, what is it?_ Saphira searched his mind and found the dream immediately. _Oh._

 _We should tell Nasuada this time. Really, Saphira._

 _You think Nasuada doesn't have enough to worry about now?_

He knew she was right. _What will you have me do? I have to inform someone._

 _Tell Arya. She's the wisest person we know; and she will be honest with us._

 _Arya? Ha! She hardly speaks to me unless she absolutely has to. Ever since the Agaeti Blodhren, she's been so cold it is painful to be in the same room with her!_

 _Then don't tell anyone. Nasuada will die under the sword of your own brother and you will live with the knowledge that you could have acquired Arya's assistance in this matter._

Eragon flinched at her mention of Murtagh being his brother. It wasn't painful to think of Murtagh as his brother, but remembering that reminded him of who their father was. He'd managed to suppress the feelings of doubt and unworthiness for long enough; it was cruel of Saphira to bring them to the surface. _Alright, I'll go,_ he gave in, _but stop pestering me!_

 _Me? You're the one who was pestering me!_

He sighed, standing up and starting across the courtyard. The sun had not yet risen, but he knew it would not be long before its rays would peek over the horizon.

 _Wait,_ Saphira called, _are you really going to walk?_

He stopped, turning back around. _Oops._ He hadn't even thought of flying. _Can I have a ride?_

 _Of course._

Once he was safely strapped to the saddle, she leaped into the air, doing a backwards somersault for fun and then speeding out over the city.

People in the streets below looked up with awe. Some even saluted the flying figure, calling out, "Argetlam!" The people had their hopes invested in Saphira and him, Eragon could see that much. If he was worth nothing else, that in itself was important to the Varden.

Saphira gained altitude, and the faint calls of the people faded away. The group of white tents loomed ahead, and she sped towards it.

They alighted outside the camp, and a company of elves were soon there to meet them, complimenting Saphira's scales and offering their assistance in whatever they may need.

"I am here to see Arya Drottningu," Eragon explained in the ancient language. "There is a matter that I would very much like her input on."

He was led to her tent without delay. The elves were happy enough to carry out his requests.

Arya stepped out of the tent, her face expressionless, as usual. "Yes, Eragon finiarel?"

He touched his fingers to his mouth, saying, "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

She replied properly. "Atra du evarinya ono varda."

"I ask your guidance with a certain matter. Could we speak in private?"

Arya nodded. "Let us walk outside the camp."

He followed her between the tents, wondering how she could always keep her thoughts so hidden by a blank expression.

When they at last came into the clearing, Eragon spoke. "It is Nasuada…"

"Is she well?" asked Arya, in alarm.

"Yes, yes. But I have been having dreams about her—one dream, really. Over and over again, I have seen her meet with Murtagh. Saphira and I believe that it is more than just a dream." He studied her face, but, as usual, it betrayed nothing of Arya's true thoughts.

"When you say 'meet,' what does that mean exactly? Are they friends in this dream?"

He was surprised at the question and almost insulted that Arya would think of Nasuada as friends with an enemy. "No. He is looking for the egg, and when he finds it has hatched for her, they fight. He wins, but I know not if she will die."

"Then you knew Nasuada would be the Rider?" she asked, a flicker of anger crossing her face.

"No; that part was only clear when I dreamed this morning."

They walked on for a little more. "What can I offer you, then?"

"I seek your counsel, Arya Drottningu. She meets Murtagh in her study, and I've already put a ward around it, but I feel I should do more to assure her protection."

"If this meeting between the two happens in her quarters, and you will be taking Nasuada to Du Weldenvarden very soon, I suggest you not worry about this meeting until your return."

"Very well. Thank you." Eragon turned away, frustrated with Arya's stiff manner. He was not approaching her inappropriately. Why did she have to be so cold?

Saphira acknowledged his questions. _Arya is not the type to reveal her emotions to just anyone. She probably thinks it is best to keep her true thoughts away from you. After all, she is probably still worried about Nasuada as a Rider._

He sighed. _She could pretend to be nice…_


	13. A Declaration

**Chapter 13**

Nasuada awoke in her study chair. She sat up, nudging the lump in her lap that was the silver hatchling. "Wake up. We have a busy day ahead," she whispered, dread filling every inch of her body. While being disappointed that the egg hadn't hatched for Arya or Vanir, she was also overjoyed at the connection she now felt with this small dragon. Already, she could feel it reaching for her mind. A wave of hunger passed through her, coming straight from the dragon. It was so potent that she felt her own stomach growl. "I'm hungry, too."

She rang the bell next to her desk and Farica came in. "Bring us some breakfast, please. I will have eggs, if that is all right. And send along some beef as well." Nasuada scooted closer to her desk, not wanting the maid to see the creature in her lap. Rumors around the palace were the last thing she wanted right then.

The dragon stretched in her lap, his scales shining in the light from the window.

"What shall I call you?" she asked.

The dragon, of course, had no idea what she said. He leaped down from the chair and began exploring the room.

"A name can wait, I suppose. There is much to do today. But I can't continue calling you 'dragon.'"

Farica came in with a tray piled high with eggs, biscuits, and beef. "Here, Lady. This is to put some meat on your bones."

Nasuada smiled, subtly nudging her dragon under the desk further. "Thank you, Farica. I am starving."

"You know, you should really eat somewhere besides this study. You hardly ever leave!"

"I think I will leave soon, Farica. But, for now, I'm eating all of this delicious food."

The maid left and Nasuada pulled her dragon out from under the desk, setting him on top. "You can have whatever you like, but I got the beef especially for you."

The dragon, without hesitation, went straight for the eggs, devouring all six before she had even started one biscuit. Nasuada laughed, shrugging and shaking her head. "I guess you know what you like!"

Nasuada called a meeting of the council after breakfast, inviting King Orrin, Arya, and Eragon as well. She left the dragon to roam free in her office, giving the guards strict instructions that no one was to enter.

The meeting room was full when she entered, and everyone stood at her presence. "Greetings," she said, "please sit down."

They did as she said, exchanging curious looks. No one aside from Arya and Eragon knew the purpose of this meeting.

"I would like to thank you all for the support you've given me in these past months. Orrin, I think I speak for us all when I say that you have been gracious for housing our people." She sighed, ignoring their worried glances. "There have been recent events that you all must be aware of, but I think it best that they remain secret and not stray from this room. Do you all agree?"

They agreed.

She cleared her throat. "As you know, Eragon acquired the egg during his escape from Uru'baen days ago. Yesterday, it hatched, marking me a Rider."

For a second, no one spoke. And then, everyone started speaking.

"You?" said Elessari.

"But you have no training!" Falberd cried.

"Couldn't you have prevented this?" Umerth demanded.

"SILENCE!" Jormundor shouted. "Please keep this to a civilized conversation."

Everyone retreated to their own thoughts, casting angry glares at Jormundor.

"I understand your…" Nasuada tried to find the right word, "disconcerted response. I am untrained and, being leader of the Varden, too busy to train. My duties have already become too great to bear. And with training, it will be impossible to perform them to their fullest. Therefore, I hereby resign as your leader and appoint Jormundor as my successor."

The room erupted into protests.

"But you don't have the right to appoint a new…"

"… can't just…"

"NO!"

"My Lady, it's far too…"

"Why didn't you choose…"

"… don't you see that it's…"

"STOP!" Nasuada shouted. "I have made my decision, and if you don't like it, fight amongst yourselves. Jormundor is the best person for the job. Petty bickering will do nothing to change my position.

"I am going to leave tomorrow morning with Eragon, and we're going to Du Weldenvarden for my training. That is my decision and do not even try to dissuade me."

Across the room, she saw Eragon smile faintly. Besides that, the reaction to her speech was of horror. Each person on the council was devastated at learning they had no power over her. She was no longer playing their game.

"That is all I have to say," she finished, standing up. "I have an appointment to make this announcement public. Of course, no one must know I am a Rider until I am trained. We don't want word to reach Uru'baen."

She left, ignoring the calls to come back. A feeling of overwhelming triumph filled her very bones. _At last I am doing what's best without their approval!_ She thought, growing taller and walking with a determined stride. It was liberating to finally say no to their demands.

For the first time since her father's death, Nasuada felt relatively free. A great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she felt that her life was under her control once more.

The people were devastated at Nasuada's news, not knowing the reason behind it. They had grown to support her in the past months, as they had supported her father during his rule. But they honored her decision, accepting her word that this change was for the best.

Eragon knew that her decision was set in stone the moment she informed the public. Now the council could not go back on her movement. The people would not allow it.

 _Clever of her,_ he thought to Saphira.

 _Yes. She handled the situation well._

 _Are you ready to return to Du Weldenvarden, Saphira?_ He smiled

 _I am. Oromis will be able to train us further while we're there maybe._

 _They might need me here, but I'd like to think we will have some training time._

 _We leave tomorrow though?_ Saphira asked.

 _Yes, weren't you listening?_

' _Just making sure. So I'll get to see the hatchling in person then?_

 _No. We're going to keep him in a bag so you can't lay your eyes upon him. OF COURSE you can see him!_

She puffed smoke out her nostrils. _There's no need for sarcasm, Eragon._

 _There's no need, but I provide it just for you._ He smiled.

Nasuada hid the silver dragon in her satchel, calming him with a dwarf lullaby from her childhood. She had another bag packed lightly with clothing and appropriate equipment for travel. On Saphira's back there wouldn't be much room for luggage, so she kept it to the necessities.

She braided her hair and glanced in the mirror. The reflection was as it had always been; a young woman with strong features. Her dark skin was just like her father's, but the line of her jaw was from somewhere else. Nothing about her appearance reminded her of a Rider. She looked more like herself and less like the leader of the Varden already, wearing a deep green tunic and leather breeches—practical clothing for travel.

With one last glance around her room, she grabbed her bags, being gentle with the hatchling, and left.

Eragon was waiting with Saphira in the courtyard. "Are you ready?" he called, smiling. Already, his bags were strapped to the saddle. Arya watched silently from across the courtyard, seeing them off.

"Yes," she said. All of her life she had wondered what it was like to fly. In her younger years, she had played Riders and Bandits with the Varden children. Never in her adult life had she imagined becoming a Rider.

Eragon took her bag and strapped it to Saphira's saddle.

The sapphire dragon knelt down so Nasuada could mount.

Before climbing up, she made sure her satchel was securely strapped around her mid-section and checked on the silver dragon. He didn't like being in such confined quarters, yet submitted to her mental prod.

She hauled herself up behind Eragon and buckled the straps around her legs. "Is this tight enough?" she asked nervously.

"That's fine," Eragon replied. And with that, Saphira sprang into the air, opening her wings and giving a mighty beat against the air.

Nasuada felt a strong waft of air and turned her head to the sky to fully enjoy the cool breeze. They were going straight up with increasing speed; and she found herself clutching Eragon around the waist to keep from falling backwards. Then, the sky turned and she knew Saphira was doing an up-side-down loop in the air. Her braid fell above her head, and the only things holding her up were the straps for a moment. Sheer panic gripped her, but before she knew it, they were right side up again.

Oddly enough, she then felt exhilarated and ready to do the loop one more time. A laugh of delight escaped her mouth.

In front of her, Eragon laughed too. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Hold on!"

"Wha…?" Nasuada gasped as Saphira broke into a dive. She clutched Eragon's shirt, fighting against the empty feeling in her stomach. The city below was getting closer and closer. She could make out people in the streets and wagons traveling to and fro. _We are going to crash!_ She thought frantically. But, just then, Saphira pulled back up and began flying northward at a steady pace.

"Never do that again!" She cried, but she was laughing and so was Eragon. From inside her satchel, she heard the hatchling squeak, and she felt joy emanating from him. The sky was his home, too.


	14. Christening

**Chapter 14**

The young woman bowed before the king, her golden hair falling temporarily over her face. "You requested my presence, Sire?"

"Yes. I command you to find the location of a certain dragon egg. It was stolen from me and I suspect it is somewhere in Surda—Aberon, probably. Your task is to remain unnoticed while searching for it and then report to me when it is located."

"Your wish is my command," she said sarcastically, turning to leave.

"Wait, Goroth," He said. "I do not like the rebellious tone in your voice. Before you go, I want you to swear loyalty to me."

"We covered that in our last meeting."

"Yes, but it was not binding. Swear your fealty in the true language. I cannot trust you with even the smallest task until you do."

Goroth grimaced, saying, "Vel einradhin, eka atra waise skolir ono varda."

"Good enough. Leave us and travel as a spy to Surda. Go by the name Adriana. Goroth is a horrible name for you."

"Yes, sire." The maiden left, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head.

"A powerful ally," Galbatorix murmured.

Elva stepped out of the shadows. He always wanted her at his side during such meetings. "I still do not trust… her. Did the oath specify remaining loyal to you? I did not understand it, but got the distinct feeling that Goroth worded it with a loophole."

"The oath was to shield me. It did not state anything about following orders. But I am satisfied, and you should be too." He changed the subject. "I am just curious… what is it that Goroth wants most? You always can tell, even with the best defenses set up."

"To become powerful enough to destroy you and take up your position," she said without hesitation.

"Good. I don't want servants without ambition. No one will be my equal though. No one."

Saphira alighted in the sand, bending low to allow her passengers' exit. Nasuada unbuckled her legs and slid off, landing shakily on the dry ground. Eragon saw plainly she was suffering from the prolonged flight. After all, they had only stopped once that day. _He_ even felt sore from the ride, though it didn't show as much.

Nasuada stumbled a few feet away and sat down abruptly, coughing in the dry desert air. She lifted her satchel and brought out the silver dragon, allowing him to roam. "What shall we have for dinner?" she asked. "He needs meat badly and hasn't had any water since our midday break."

Eragon took their bags off of Saphira and asked her to bring back food for the little one.

 _Of course!_

"Saphira will bring meat. I have some bread and fruits, if you'd like some."

She accepted the offer, taking an apple from his bag and biting into it. "When will we be out of the desert?" she asked between mouthfuls.

"If all goes well, we will be in Du Weldenvarden before nightfall three days from now." Eragon brought out a water flask and gulped from it.

"Where will we get water? We're almost out!"

He smiled. "I'll handle that."

Nasuada looked skeptical.

"Why, is he thirsty?" Eragon nodded to the silver dragon, who was busy chasing a lizard over the sand dunes.

"Yes."

He reached down and made a hole in the earth, speaking the words "Reisa du adurna." Water seeped up from the ground, creating a pool in front of him.

The silver dragon stopped his chase and stepped towards Eragon, casting a hesitant look at Nasuada. She nodded, encouraging him to go closer.

Eragon watched as the hatchling thrust his nose into the water and then shied away at the ripples it made. Then, realizing that the ripples did nothing harmful, he jumped into the pool, splashing water everywhere.

Nasuada smiled a little. "I've been thinking… he should have a name."

"Yes, he should. I didn't get around to naming Saphira until she was months old."

"What did you call her before then?" She seemed surprised.

"Just 'dragon.' I didn't know of any dragon names." Eragon thought for a moment. "Have you heard of the dragon who fought the giant sea serpent?"

"Yes, actually. What was his name…" She stammered. "Gaslarb? Golord?"

"Roslarb."

She made a face. "I don't like that name. What about… Ohen? No, that won't do. I can't think of any more dragon names."

"Let me see," Eragon said, happy to help. "There's Vanilor and Ingothold; Ekorum, Beroan, Briam, and Hirador."

"I don't like any of those," Nasuada said. "They are strange, old names whose meanings have been lost." She bent her head in concentration, muttering a few different words. "Otho?" "Hefthyn?" "Urzhad?"

"Are those dwarvish names?"

She shrugged. "Many of my dearest friends were dwarves, growing up. I learned Dwarvish as soon as I could speak. Some of my first memories were hearing Father negotiate with dwarven leaders, hearing them curse the empire while I lay awake at night in my room…."

Suddenly, she began laughing.

"What?" Eragon asked.

"If I named him Barzul Knurlar…" she stopped to laugh more.

Eragon laughed too at the thought of a dragon named from a dwarven curse phrase. "Do you speak the Dwarf language?"

"A little, having lived among them. I think it an appropriate name for our circumstances, don't you?"

"I suppose so," Eragon said, still bewildered that she would consider that name. He had spent enough time with the dwarves to recognize their most potent curses. "But don't say it in the presence of a dwarf; you might be thought poorly of."

"No. They'd take it as a battle cry," she said. "I like it. And, even though it is a bit of a joke, it sounds dignified. It shows strength and boldness in the face of enemies!"

"Barzul Knurlar," he said, trying it out. It did sound like a fine name if you were ignorant of the meaning. "Shall we actually call him 'Barzul' for short?"

"Why not? He shall fulfill his name as Murtagh told you Thorn would fulfill his." Nasuada looked down a little and a silence came over the two. Murtagh's enslavement was still fresh in their minds and neither one was ready to bring it up.

Saphira returned with two snakes in her mouth. _This is for the hatchling. I'm going out for my own dinner now._

 _While you were gone, we named him._

 _I miss out on everything! What did you decide on?_

He told her.

She snorted a blue flame. _Where would you get a name like that? Dwarvish curses are hardly respectable for a dragon's name._ But Eragon could sense her approval.

He brought up more water for her and then set out a bedroll, falling asleep almost immediately.

Nasuada chased after Barzul and brought him to her own bedroll, laying down with him in her arms. It felt good to be traveling again. It was much easier a task than ruling the Varden. To concentrate on simple things like staying in Saphira's saddle calmed her mind even though her legs felt like mush.

The elation of defying the council had long worn off, and she worried for the Varden. Was it the right choice making Jormundor Leader? Would he act according to their best interest or his best interest? _Yes… he cares. And he is competent,_ Nasuada assured herself. Jormundor had been her father's most trusted friend since her childhood. He would be good for the Varden.

 _Jormundor isn't the one I should be worrying about,_ she thought. _He knows how to do his job. I have been thrust into the position of a Rider and I know nothing. What shall I tell the people of the Varden? What will be my excuse when I fail?_ She shut her eyes hard, trying to calm her worry.

Saphira's mighty wing beats interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Suddenly, she felt the dragon enter her mind. She tried to block it, but Saphira said, _Do not do that please._

Nasuada turned to look at the dragon. Her majestic scales were barely visible in the dark. _Is this what it's like when you speak to Eragon?_ She had heard of the method of communication Riders used, but never dreamed it would feel so peculiar. It was much like when she felt Barzul's emotions… only more intelligent… more complicated and powerful.

 _Yes. But our connection is much stronger. Sometime, we merge our minds almost entirely. I would like to have refrained from entering your mind, but my Rider appears to have fallen asleep._

Nasuada asked, _What is it you wanted to tell me?_

 _That you shouldn't worry. I sense your troubled mind without trying. In order to perform your training properly, you must dedicate all of your time to studying. If you continue worrying like this, we will have a very weak Rider on our side._

 _I still can't believe…_ Nasuada bit her lip. _It just would have been better for us if anyone else became a Rider._

 _Stop thinking that way. That dragon has waited for you since before Galbatorix's reign. Do not ruin his joy with your regret._ Saphira's presence felt stern and borderline angry in her mind.

 _I will try,_ Nasuada gave in.

 _Good. Sleep well, Rider._


	15. Counsel

**Chapter 15**

"Rumors are spreading about our victory and more people than ever before are joining the Varden," Jormundor said. "Now—in the next several months—is the best time for an attack. After Nasuada has been trained in the ways of a Rider, we will be best prepared for battle. And by that time, our troops will have quintupled in size. If we cannot take Galbatorix out then, we never will be able."

Arya sighed. Though grateful he had invited her to this meeting, she found it frustrating to talk some sense into him. She and Orrin sat across from Jormundor at his desk.

"I agree about your last statement, but training isn't something that just _happens_. Nasuada might not complete training as quickly as Eragon did. After all, he had trained with Brom beforehand." Arya pushed a stray hair away from her face. "When she is ready, Islanzadi will send word. We cannot plan her training. Knowledge isn't something that happens overnight."

"Galbatorix might not wait for her to be trained," Jormundor said.

"He will have to!" She exclaimed. "Don't you understand? Nasuada is a danger to herself and to others unless she learns the ways of magic inside and out. We learned that the hard way with Eragon's 'blessing' incident. Now Elva is helping our enemy."

Orrin nodded. "Yes. I think we should wait as long as possible. That way we will get even more troops in preparation for the battle. And, on top of that, Nasuada will be better trained."

Jormundor sighed. "The Varden cannot wait forever. People are coming here to fight and they will grow impatient. After a while, we will dwindle away once more."

"When that starts to happen, ask Eragon to do a rescue or jail-break in the Empire. That will get people talking once more."

Jormundor nodded. "It just feels useless staying here without doing anything…"

"If I may say so, Jormundor," Orrin said, "that is often the hardest thing to do, especially if it's the right thing. But, despite all appearances, we are accomplishing something. Our army is larger than before the battle of the Burning Plains and our spies are reporting Galbatorix's actions every day."

"You're right, Orrin," Jormundor said. "I should wait until we are at our prime."

Arya silently made a note to thank Orrin for his assistance.

During breakfast, Eragon began teaching Nasuada of the elven customs. First, she learned their proper greetings. Then he told her of all of the honorifics used when referring to someone. "You will call Islanzadi 'Islanzadi Drottning.' If you don't, they will take offense."

Nasuada had trouble remembering the words, but her pronunciation was excellent for a beginner.

"I suggest you exercise your mind as well. Try speaking to Saphira frequently—that would ordinarily be considered rude, but she and I have decided it's best for you to practice with her. We're not sensitive."

She nodded. "So you aren't allowed to contact Barzul?"

"According to the elven customs, no."

"That's silly. It's not like a dragon couldn't block you out."

He shrugged. "Many of the elven traditions don't make sense to us, but they follow them religiously."

They rode most of the day, stopping for breaks every so often to give Barzul water and let him stretch his wings. Nasuada spoke to Saphira often during the day, asking for different honorifics she had forgotten.

By the next day, Eragon and Saphira were beginning to teach her other words in the ancient language. They warned her not to attempt a spell, but encouraged her to practice.

Barzul watched them curiously during the lessons, swishing his spiked tail and occasionally snorting little puffs of smoke. When he bored of their lessons, he would search for lizards or chase Saphira's tail. The group got much entertainment watching his games and cheering him on, which only proved to distract him.

Thus the days passed until they reached the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden.

Nasuada first saw the forest from the sky. It was an endless sea of leaves stretching to the horizon and beyond. There were no cities in sight, but she thought they would be visible soon.

 _How much farther, Saphira?_ She asked.

 _We will be in Ellesmera shortly after nightfall, but Eragon wishes to take a break now and assure the elves below that we are friends._

 _There are elves below?_ She thought, peering over Eragon's shoulder. All she could see was the forest.

Saphira veered to the right, finding a place to land next to a River.

"Stay here," Eragon said, unbuckling himself and jumping off the saddle. He walked to the line of trees and put a finger to his lips, saying, "Atra esterni ono thelduin. Eka celobra ono un mulabra ono ne haina."

"Atra du evarinya ono varda," said a chorus of voices. Several fair elves emerged from the thicket, standing in awe of Saphira and offering compliments in the ancient language to her and Eragon.

Eragon spoke with them briefly and came to Nasuada. "They have offered us more supplies and a place to stay as long as we wish. I told them we could accept some drinks and fresh fruit, but we cannot stay long."

Nasuada nodded, eyeing the elves with curiosity. There were five of them; three with golden hair, one with raven colored hair and black eyes, and one with silver hair and eerie white eyes. All had very angular features, as Arya did, but they each had a certain uniqueness about them.

"Are you going to get down?" Eragon asked.

She pried her eyes off the strange people and nodded. "Is it safe to bring Barzul out though?"

He hesitated. "That's fine, but I'd like to speak with them first." He turned to the elves and spoke rapidly to them while she dismounted. "They have sworn never to tell anyone of our meeting. I thought it best, and they agree with me, that Islanzadi hear of Barzul's existence from us. Rumors are deadly things."

"Then I'll take him out," she said, feeling the poor dragon yearning for freedom as she spoke. Carefully, she lowered the satchel and opened it up, pulling Barzul out and gently touching her cheek to his smooth scales.

The elves all gasped and began speaking in their strange language. Eragon answered them briefly, and one of them approached Nasuada. It was one of the golden-haired elves, and he touched his fingers to his lips, saying, "We welcome you and your dragon with the utmost sincerity, Shur'tugal." He spoke in the common tongue of men.

She smiled at him, standing to her feet and saying, "I thank you for your hospitality. My dragon and I are honored to be in such an audience."

He grinned. "Come! My friends will gather a feast for you. It is not every day we are visited by a Rider, much less two!"

The party did indeed prepare some delicious food. In only a few minutes, Nasuada and Eragon were eating a huge assortment of exotic fruits and herbs. The elves sang merry songs and made conversation in the common tongue so as to keep Nasuada comfortable. They all made sure to compliment Barzul's bright eyes and shimmering scales and hints of strong muscles and sharp little claws and—well, just about everything.

When she told them the name of her dragon, one of the elves recognized the curse. He smiled and said, "A very appropriate name. I shall hope he lives up to it." She, of course, was relieved, concerned about insulting them. The other elves, once it was explained to them, also agreed it a fine name.

For well over an hour, they ate delicious fruits and drank a sweet liquid Nasuada didn't recognize, talking like old friends all the while. When at last it was time to depart, she was sorry. The elves were good company—better, she thought, than Arya or Vanir had ever been.

With a sorrowful farewell, she and Eragon flew away, but not before their bags were packed full of sweet fruits and drink.

The sun's golden rays had long disappeared over the horizon when they flew over Ellesmera. Nasuada would never have known they were over a huge city if Eragon had not contacted her.

 _We're over Ellesmera. Saphira will be landing now._

She was jolted by his presence in her mind. Always, she had communicated with him through Saphira while flying. _Where is it?_ She asked, looking down. And then she saw it; nothing much, really, but a faint glow of light flickered through the leaves below them.

 _Right there._ Eragon sent her a magnified version of what she saw, only brighter and more detailed. Was that the way he saw with his acute senses, or was it an image from a memory? She did not know.

Saphira was descending fast, skillfully evading the trees and alighting on the forest floor.

Nasuada looked about in wonder. No trees had been cleared away in construction of this city. Instead, the peoples had taken up residence inside the trees themselves. Some were made of living vines and shrubs, true, but many were built right in the hollow of a tree. It was a sight to see. Some of the fair folk themselves were out in the cool night, eyeing the travelers with curious expressions.

Eragon led her to a thick wall of trees, where they walked through an arched doorway. Behind the wall was what appeared to be a great hall. Trees lined each side and their branches intertwined to make a sort of ceiling above. Flameless lanterns hung everywhere, casting a strange glow on their faces.

At the far end stood the queen. She stood tall, her chin raised parallel to the floor. Midnight hair framed her pale face, accenting her angular features. Everything about her was finely sculpted and gave off an aura of dignified authority.

Nasuada, being higher in rank than Eragon even though she felt more like his student, felt obligated to address the queen first. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Islanzadi Drottning."

The queen returned the greeting. Then, she reverted to the common tongue, saying, "You are Lady Nasuada of the Varden?"

Nasuada bowed before the queen. "I am Nasuada, but our position has changed somewhat in the last fortnight."

"Is there trouble?" Islanzadi asked concernedly.

Nasuada hesitated. Her becoming a Rider was trouble for the Varden, but not the sort of trouble the queen was worried about for certain. How was she to tell the queen she was a Rider? Where would she start?

"Islanzadi Drottning, I am a Rider."

Islanzadi glanced quickly at Eragon and then back at Nasuada, apparently at a loss for words.

"Eka Shur'tugal," Nasuada repeated in the ancient language so there would be no doubt in the elf's mind. She didn't know if that was the appropriate grammar for the language, but knew it would get the point across.

"We have much to discuss." Islanzadi spoke a word and three chairs grew out of the vines at their feet. "Please sit down."

All three sat down in silence for a moment.

"Tell me everything," the queen declared at last.

Eragon began, having been in the group that found the silver egg. He recounted his capture and rescue—what little he was conscious for, and told of the chance-meeting with Shruikan in the egg chamber and how they had managed to escape with the egg and their lives. Then he left the rest to Nasuada.

She finished it off with describing the sequence of events leading to the egg's hatching and then, finally, to their journey northward.

"I find still that I am cut off from the world here," Islanzadi mused. "I assume you are here for your training?"

Nasuada nodded. "I'm sorry I left that detail out. Eragon informs me that there is a knowledgeable teacher here in Ellesmera, and I came to humbly ask for guidance. You see, I am fully aware of my incompetence in the area of magic. This teacher is our only hope."

Islanzadi breathed in deeply, almost sighing. "I cannot show you to this teacher you speak of…"

Eragon and Nasuada exchanged startled glances.

"… because he is dead."


	16. Crash Course

**Chapter 16**

Eragon was the first to react. "Oromis…?"

"Yes, Eragon-finiarel. He returned to the earth not three days ago."

"And Glaedr?"

"Him too. They lived full lives, Eragon."

Nasuada glanced from one to the other, not knowing who they were talking about but sensing the significance it would have upon her.

"How?" he asked, looking down.

"Their injuries took their toll. It was years in the coming. We must be glad that they could train Saphira and you."

Eragon took a deep breath, reaching a hand up to touch Saphira's nose.

Islanzadi stood. "It pains me to reveal this news. But we must not linger on this. It is late and you are weary. I see it in your eyes. The Riders' quarters, from your last stay, is open for you. I will have someone prepare another room for the Lady and her own dragon. We will meet tomorrow and discuss what is next."

Eragon nodded mutely.

He could not sleep that night. Saphira stayed up with him, offering her usual comforting words.

 _What will we do now?_ He asked. _There are no more Riders to teach Nasuada._

 _There is you,_ she reminded.

 _Don't joke, Saphira. I am pledged to Nasuada's service. I can aid in her training when needed, and you can help Barzul… but we cannot call ourselves her masters._

Saphira sighed. _You are right. But surely there is another elf who can train us. Oromis was the best for sure, but there will be others. Do not fear, Eragon. Islanzadi will give guidance as well; we are not alone in this predicament._

 _You're right. I should sleep._ He turned over and fell into the sort of resting state that had replaced sleep since his transformation. The last time he'd actually slept as a human did was when Galbatorix held him.

Early the next morning, he and Nasuada appeared before the Queen. After the greetings were exchanged and an introduction was made between Barzul and Islanzadi, she had an assortment of fruits brought before them. "Eat," she commanded. "One always thinks better on a full stomach."

They ate to their fullest before continuing the meeting.

"Have you considered training options for Barzul and me?" Nasuada asked with respect.

"I have. A member of my council will instruct you in the ways of magic, if you agree. He is very competent, but I am sad that Oromis could not train you personally."

"If you pardon my question, Islanzadi Drottning, aren't the best elven warriors in Aberon, Surda right now?" Nasuada asked.

Islanzadi nodded. "The best warriors are not always the wisest teachers."

Nasuada bowed her head.

"Islanzadi Drottning," Eragon said, "will Saphira and I be continuing our training as well?"

"If the Varden can spare you," she said. "I do not wish to assume complete authority over your actions."

He nodded, understanding the politics. "I think it best to stay here—with your permission—long enough for Saphira to produce an egg. It will be safest in Ellesmera and I will not allow the Varden to dissuade me from leaving it here."

"I am honored that you have come to that decision. You and Saphira may stay as long as you like."

Nasuada nodded her approval as well.

"Now," Islanzadi continued, "would you like to meet your new master?"

"Yes," Nasuada said.

The Queen stood, waving an arm towards the far door. It opened and in stepped an elf man with the traditional flawless features: silver hair, arched eyebrows, a sculpted nose, and icy blue eyes. He wore a deep green tunic and tan breeches.

Nasuada and Eragon stood out of respect, speaking the elven greeting.

The elf replied politely and then greeted the queen.

"This is Dathedr. He is a close friend of mine and will treat you well. Forgive his blunt manner; he has lived long enough to see the foolishness of some traditions and has strong opinions on them."

"Yet I adhere to them out of politeness," he finished, smiling at the queen.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Nasuada said.

"You see what I mean?" Dathedr exclaimed, "What you just said… 'pleasure to meet you,' that is a traditional human greeting made to keep one human from thinking the other is rude. But since everyone uses it constantly, it is considered neither polite nor rude, and does not prevent people from thinking you are disrespectful. Therefore, it is pointless—much like the mindless dribble we elves stick fast to. We have told each other 'may the stars watch over you' so many times it means nothing!"

Eragon and Nasuada were speechless. In one breath, he had completely proved their first impressions wrong. His appearance showed nothing of the opinionated spirit within.

Islanzadi laughed. "Please don't give them the entire lecture, Dathedr-vor. We have other things to attend to today."

"If you insist, Islanzadi Drottning."

They all sat down.

"Now, Nasuada, have you any former instruction in the ways of magic?"

"No," she answered, "but I can protect my mind from intruders."

"That's good," he murmured. "And how much of the ancient language do you know?"

"Only a few words that Eragon taught me." She cradled Barzul in her arms, looking down.

"Which brings me to you, Eragon," Dathedr said. "Can you successfully remain aware of all the life around you within twenty paces?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "And can you perform magic without words?"

"I have never tried, sir, but I have been told of such methods."

"As it should be. Only a fool tampers with such secrets after only a few months of training."

"When shall we begin?" Nasuada asked.

"Right away, if it is the Queen's will." Dathedr cast a glance at Islanzadi who nodded. "Good. Let us leave."

They left and traveled to a small clearing where Eragon was left to meditate and Dathedr began a crash course on the ancient language with Nasuada. She tried to take notes, but Dathedr stopped her, saying, "One remembers better while speaking, not writing."

For hours they practiced the language, and soon Eragon joined them as well. Then, Nasuada was given a break to meditate and Eragon and Saphira were given a much more advanced course in the ancient language. No one performed a single spell that day.

The next several days were much the same. Dathedr was a stickler about learning the language before trying to use it, and forbade Eragon and Nasuade from performing any spells.

Even so, Eragon felt he was growing stronger with the meditation, and he was learning more of the ancient language every day with Dathedr's lessons.

Nasuada, overloaded with information, hardly spoke outside of their lessons. Her face was constantly scrunched into an "I can't remember that one word" expression, but she was improving greatly. She could pronounce some of the words as well as Eragon could.

Barzul, sharing his Rider's emotions, was low in spirits in the next several days. He hung his tail and nudged Nasuada pityingly, his black eyes shining with sympathy. Nevertheless, he was very healthy. Already he had grown to half-again his size at hatching. And though Nasuada still carried him sometime, Eragon knew those days were numbered. Soon enough it would be the other way around.


	17. A Day Away

Chapter 17

Being in Ellesmera again was like time had stopped. Nothing happened outside of the daily routine, and they were entirely cut off from the world. Eragon both liked it for the peacefulness and hated it because Surda could already be invaded and he'd know nothing about it.

One day, while in an audience with the queen, Eragon inquired as to their method of communication with the Varden.

Islanzadi said, "I have very recently set up a time at which an elf in Aberon will scry me, and I them, every day. It is the fastest method I could set up for now. If the Varden sends word for you, we will know within the next twenty-four hours."

"Thank you, Islanzadi Drottning. That relieves my worries considerably."

"Good."

Nasuada continued to retreat into the confines of her mind in the following days. She hardly spoke outside of lessons and never smiled.

Saphira and Eragon grew concerned not only for Nasuada's well being, but for her dragon's.

 _Too much training is not healthy. It is dragging them both down,_ Saphira thought to him one evening. _You should ask Dathedr-elda for a day off._

 _Ask my Master for a day off? He might not like that. You know he hates wasted time._ Eragon grimaced.

 _Just ask him outright then; do not conceal your reasons. He will appreciate your straightforwardness._

Eragon took her advice, going straight to Dathedr and asking for the next day off. He explained that it would give Nasuada and Barzul the rest they needed.

Dathedr, surprised at the inquiry, said only, "You may spend tomorrow as you wish, Rider, but do not get used to such holidays."

Nasuada awoke to Barzul's soft growling. He had found a rat in the far corner of the room and was in the middle of a stare-down with it. His scales stood up and he hunched down, ready to pounce.

She stood still, watching the scene with mild amusement.

Barzul leaped for the rat, letting out a cat-like growl. But the rat was too fast. It ducked between the vines that made up the wall and escaped into the wilderness. Barzul tried to follow, but he was far too big.

She walked across the room and scooped him up into her arms. After just a few weeks of being a Rider, she had grown to love Barzul more than anything. As much as she wished the Rider could have been an elf, she also was glad to have the silver dragon's companionship. He was all that kept her going during training exercises.

Setting him on the bed, she pulled a sandy colored tunic from the trunk and pulled it over her head. Similar breeches were there too, along with her tough boots. She put on those as well.

As was appropriate for training purposes, she pulled her hair back in a tight bun and smoothed the stray hairs.

Just then, a knock came at her door.

 _That's odd,_ she thought warily. No one ever came to her door besides, occasionally, Eragon.

She strode to the door and opened it wide, coming face-to-face with Eragon.

"Are you taking me to the training field?" she asked. He didn't normally escort her to the grounds. They always met there.

"No. We're spending the day with Saphira," he said quite matter-of-factly.

"What about Dathedr?" She asked, startled.

"He knows. We have the day to ourselves. Don't you want a break?"

"I need to study," she began, "if I don't, I'll never remember a thing…"

"Are you coming?" he asked, backing up and grinning. Saphira landed next to him with a mighty swoop, saddled and ready for an adventure.

A reluctant smile crossed Nasuada's face, and she nodded. "I guess one day wouldn't hurt."

Barzul gave a tiny roar of excitement and raced out the door, leaping into the air and flying around Saphira.

Eragon and Nasuada climbed into the saddle and strapped themselves in, as they had done so often in their journey, and braced themselves for the lift-off.

Saphira bent low and sprang into the air, ascending with greater speed than Nasuada had ever experienced. She twirled and somersaulted in the air, almost as if attempting to unseat her Riders, and then broke into a steep dive.

Nasuada hesitantly let go of Eragon's midsection and lifted her arms to the air, embracing the weightless feeling in her gut. It was good to be in the air again. She whooped with joy, not caring who heard.

Eragon, in front of her, laughed. _Are you crazy? I at least hold on to the saddle!_

 _I am crazy,_ she admitted, gripping his shoulders to keep balance as Saphira broke out of the dive and began a series of loops.

Barzul was still fighting to catch up, beating his wings frantically against the wind.

Nasuada felt his desire to join them and asked Saphira to fly below him.

Saphira did so, swooping right under the tiny dragon and beating her wings as to stay still in the air for a moment.

Nasuada urged Barzul with her mind, and he came readily, alighting right behind her and wrapping his long body around her waist.

Saphira once more began a fast climb, gaining altitude by the second. Another series of dives and twirls left her Riders breathless.

 _Are you ready for breakfast?_ Saphira asked. _I'm starving!_

Nasuada nodded. _Yes. I never did eat this morning._

They alighted next to a creek where there weren't many trees, and Eragon brought out a collection of fruits and elven specialties. The sun was just barely peeking over the trees, yet the breeze was comfortably cool.

"Is it always so perfect here?" Nasuada asked, looking around.

"Not always. There are storms; but, then again, even the storms are beautiful."

She smiled. "I love storms."

Barzul and Saphira both left for a hunting lesson and the two humans began eating.

"Do you ever wonder how the elves can live so secluded from the world?" Nasuada asked. "It is as if there is no war."

"I do wonder. I envy their peacefulness, yet never cease to be frustrated at their laziness. How can they all be here drinking fine wine and using magic for their own personal fulfillment while we die in the battlefield?" He sighed.

"But they are helping now," Nasuada reminded. "And they're training us…"

He nodded. "Yes; Islanzadi has re-joined the war effort. I am just frustrated that there is no war here. In Aberon, there is the hustle-and-bustle because citizens know we're at war—and it is obvious that they care. Here, everyone takes their time."

"No matter how frustrated I am with their casual behavior, I am still relieved to be away from war," Nasuada admitted. "Here, I can rest and study without the stresses of warfare. Islanzadi was right to keep me in Ellesmera."

"I am the same way," he said. "Here, Saphira and I are free from the politics of the Varden."

"Thank the gods!" She said with conviction.

They both laughed.

"How are you and Barzul doing, Nasuada?" Eragon asked sincerely. "I know the last few weeks have been hard."

"They have been hard. We are alright though. Our connection is getting stronger every lesson and he is beginning to understand a lot of human things. At first, he didn't understand that when I talk to people, I exchange information. I suppose he thought it was just a show of strange noises." She smiled affectionately.

"Your connection is growing faster than Saphira and I thought. We were not trained to use our connection until several months had passed. You and Barzul have a head start."

"We do. He already understands our names." Nasuada grinned. She didn't feel like she was talking to a Rider who was under her command. On the contrary, she felt more like Eragon was a good friend. _Strange how things change,_ she thought.

They finished up their meal and met the two dragons by the creek. Saphira had helped Barzul catch a raccoon to fulfill his hunger.

Barzul, very proud of his victory, alighted on the sand and paraded around in circles, lifting his nose and standing to full height, which was only knee-high to Nasuada. His scales shimmered in the sun, and he arched his back to catch the light better.

Nasuada laughed. "Show-off," she mumbled.

"Are you ready?" Eragon asked, climbing into the saddle once more.

Nasuada felt the excitement crawling up her spine already. "Yes, I am."


	18. Shades of Fury

Chapter 18

Arya felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck and sensed she was being watched. Casually strolling into a side alleyway, she opened her mind to all surroundings. Immediately, Vanir's presence was clear.

 _Don't make a sound. Come here,_ he urged, sending her a mental picture of his location.

She gritted her teeth. _Why must you speak to me in this manner? I am perfectly capable of speech, Vanir!_

 _Just come,_ he said.

She crept stealthily between the buildings until reaching a particularly tight alley. Vanir stood flattened against the brick wall.

"What is it?" she demanded in a whisper.

 _Shhh!_ He warned, and she felt his temper flare.

 _What is this, Vanir?_

He beckoned to her, bending his head sideways enough to glance around the corner of the building. _For the past few nights, I've noticed a certain civilian hanging about the palace gates. It is very suspicious._

Arya followed his lead, lowering herself to the cobblestone street and peeking around the corner. As usual, a group of thirty guards stood at the main gate. Many others were on patrol around the wall itself. But one figure was out of place. It was a woman, dressed in a simple peasant's gown and wearing a hooded cloak that cast a shadow over her face.

 _Who is she?_ Arya asked.

 _I do not know—that's what bothers me. If she were a sweetheart of one of the soldiers, that would explain some things, but I've examined each man's mind, and none know her._ Vanir shifted uncomfortably.

 _What about her?_

 _I cannot breach her mind. She has barriers up, and if I prod further, she will notice._

 _Interesting._ Arya explored his statement, gently trying to make a connection with the woman.

Nothing.

She listened to the conversation between the guards and the woman.

"Have you seen the Shadeslayer recently?"

"No, miss, I cain't remember seeing him this month. Rumors are spreading that he's been captured." He tipped his hat to the woman.

"Well where has he gone?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to one side. The light from the torches illuminated her fine jaw and graceful neck.

The man shrugged, grinning. Several of his comrades reacted similarly.

 _Does she have them under a spell?_ Arya asked. _They are trained not to behave in such a manner._

 _I don't know._

The guard said, "We don't know where he's gone, miss. But what would a pretty lady like you have to do with Riders and the sort?"

"I'm just curious," she said. "Have you heard of any important objects being imported to the city any time recently? You see, my grandfather is a trader and is considering the concept of building a business here."

He looked confused for a moment. "Important objects? No, I haven't heard of any… but, then again, I'm just a guard."

"Thank you. I will search elsewhere. But one last question: where is Jormundor, the leader of the Varden? Perhaps he can help my _grandfather_."

"Jormundor stays in the castle, miss. 'Hardly ever leaves, really."

A heavy sigh came from the woman. "I was afraid of that. Good night, gentlemen!"

A chorus of sweet farewells came from the group as the maiden departed.

 _Let's cut her off. She should be coming this way,_ Arya said.

Vanir agreed wholeheartedly.

The cloaked woman strutted into the alley without a care, her heavy boots making staccato _clicks_ on the street.

Just as Arya was about to step out and meet her, the woman whirled around, fingering the hilt of a sword Arya had not before noticed.

Vanir, Arya, and the strange woman stared evenly at each other for a long moment.

"Who are you?" Vanir finally asked.

"I am a simple townswoman," she sneered. It didn't appear she was trying to sound honest at all. As a last touch, she added sarcastically, "I'm just looking to help my _grandfather_ out."

Arya felt a chill. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Something about the woman was not quite right.

"It is very lucky of me to meet two beings such as yourselves. There're only two of you… I might be able to get a little information." The woman drew her blade and lunged at Arya.

Quick to respond, Arya blocked the blow, but it was much harder than she imagined. _This is no ordinary human, Vanir!_ She warned, pushing the sword away with difficulty and straining to block the next blow. "What are you?" she asked, disgusted.

The woman thrust her sword for Arya's gut, but it was blocked. "Me? I'm a Shade."

Vanir joined the fight, adding his sword to the tangle.

Arya, knowing the true identity of her opponent, used every trick she knew. But Vanir, who was much more skilled, remained the Shade's biggest foe.

No doubt aware of that fact, the Shade sought to get Arya out of the way first. Their swords clashed so frequently it sounded like rain drops on the roof of a barn.

They fought with such speed even Arya had a hard time following it. She relied wholly on her instincts and reflexes to stay alive.

The Shade fought wildly, straining to block Vanir's attack while at the same time trying to rid the nuisance that Arya was becoming. Finally, in a last attempt, she reached up and kicked the elf square in the stomach. The force was enough to throw Arya back into the wall.

Arya gasped for breath. It felt as if all her insides had been crushed. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision and she began to go unconscious. Her last thought before going out was, _I hope Vanir kills that B****._


	19. Gift of Sorrow

**Chapter 19**

Vanir felt a dip in his stomach. "Arya!"

The Shade laughed, pulling off her cloak in preparation for the coming battle. The moonlight beat down on her face, revealing a pale woman with golden hair and deep red eyes. "You elves sure puzzle me sometime. One moment you're cold and heartless, the next you're crying after some injured friend."

He got a tighter grip on his sword and launched an attack at the woman, lashing out with all his might.

She parried his every move, fighting with equal speed and strength. "Have you ever died, elf?" she spat, speaking the word "elf" as if it was poison to her tongue.

He decided the question was unworthy of an answer. Instead of replying, he stabbed at her stomach, whirling around for another attack when he was blocked.

"I suppose not," she reasoned as their swords met for a second in mid air. "It isn't too bad. 'Wasn't for me anyway… Durza, now he had it bad!"

Vanir let her talk, hoping it would slow her down and waste her breath. "Durza was stabbed through the heart, same as all of your kind," he said, encouraging her to continue with the _wonderful_ story.

"What? Oh, not that time!" she laughed. "I mean the first time he died. You really have a sense of humor."

"I wasn't joking," he said, really confused now. He ducked to avoid decapitation and the thrust his sword for her legs. It managed to slice a little flesh, but nothing important.

"Egh!" she spat, "That wasn't nice, elf!"

He took advantage of her injury, forcing her to use the most advanced footwork. "What was that you said about Durza?" he asked, curious despite himself.

"He died horribly. The old chap was awfully sensitive about it, too. We used to make fun of him for it. Mean of us, really." She blocked his attack with such force it sent jolts of pain up his arm.

"You knew him personally?" Vanir asked.

"Not as you would think," she said, "I knew the real Durza, not the body you would recognize as Durza. That red-headed creep was once called Carsaib before he became a Shade."

He still didn't understand, but the fight was escalating to such speed that he could not spare the breath for chit-chat.

They darted about the alleyway, swords moving so quickly they were but a blur to the human eye.

Between swings, Vanir eyed Arya's limp form. She lay silently against the brick wall, oblivious to the fight playing out right in front of her. He nudged her mind, hoping she would wake. A weak response came, but she did not fully regain consciousness.

The Shade, taking advantage of Vanir's distracted state, proceeded to place a gash in his right arm.

He cried out in pain, quickly grabbing his sword with his left hand and trying to block the next blow.

Her swing was so hard it jolted his whole body. Their swords clashed, but his was the weaker of the two swings. The Shade brushed his sword to one side and stepped on it.

"Now we'll have a little chat," she said, smiling. "Where is the dragon egg and where has the Rider Eragon disappeared to?"

"You really think I'd lower myself to the level of being honest with you?" he asked, spitting at her.

She glared at him, bending closer and pressing her blade against his neck. "Is the Shadeslayer truly great enough to die for? You are an elf—to die for such a weak human is below you."

Vanir sighed. "I am not withholding information for the sake of Eragon. I'm withholding it because you will kill me anyway. And because there's an angry elf princess behind you who just might stab you through the heart." He grinned devilishly.

The Shade whirled around, holding her sword high. But there was no one behind her. Arya lay peacefully against the wall.

Vanir picked up his sword and thrust it into the Shade's back. "That was for Arya!" he said vehemently, twisting the sword so it would do the most damage.

The Shade disappeared.

He sighed with relief, mumbling "Stupid Shade." He walked to Arya's side and touched her arm, speaking a spell to wake her.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment before opening entirely. She sprang to her feet. "What happened?"

"I fought her. She lost."

"Yes, but did you get it in the heart?" Arya asked.

Vanir shook his head. "I didn't have enough time to plan my stab that carefully."

"Barzul," she cursed. "She'll be back then."

"Don't dwell on it, Arya. We're lucky to be alive. How are you feeling?"

"My head is pounding like no other."

"Here, I'll help heal you."

"No!" she insisted. "It's nothing permanent, let's not waste energy on it." She noticed the cut on his right arm. "You'll need that one healed though."

He grinned a little. "It's nothing permanent…"

She scowled at him. "Waise heill."

Nasuada fidgeted, looking around for Eragon. It was unlike him to be late for a lesson.

She had become much better in her lessons with Dathedr. She felt her mind beginning to sort out the information much better.

Barzul had also improved much. He began to understand the meaning of several ancient words and was getting much better at hunting. He wasn't humble about it, either. In fact, he became rather vain, showing off and often diving in the stream just to watch the sun reflect off his scales in a certain way.

Nasuada, Saphira, and Eragon always enjoyed watching his antics. They found it immensely entertaining.

 _But where is he?_ She thought warily, glancing back at Dathedr.

Dathedr had a firm scowl planted on his face, and he appeared to be searching the skies for Saphira. He shook his head and muttered quietly to himself, turning to Nasuada. "Keep meditating! Don't let Eragon's bad time management intrude upon your training."

"Yes, Ebrithil," she murmured, opening her mind to the life around her. Already, she could connect her mind with that of every life form under five paces away. In time, she knew she would increase that radius to twenty or thirty paces at least.

Wing beats cut her concentration short, and she looked up to see Saphira descending to the ground.

Immediately, Nasuada reached for Eragon's mind. _Where have you been?_ She demanded quite harshly. Then she sensed his emotions. It was a mixture of hope and tremendous sorrow. _What is it, Eragon?_ She asked, softly this time.

He did not answer, but slid from Saphira's saddle with a large bag at his side. "I apologize for being late Ebrithil, but I was detained. May I have permission to seek an audience with the queen today and resume training tomorrow?"

Nasuada was confused. Eragon's stiff manner was not normal. And he never ignored her. "What is going on?" she asked.

He sighed, clutching the cloth bag.

Dathedr's scowl grew even deeper. "What is this?"

Eragon opened the bag and pulled out an emerald green dragon egg.

"Saphira wishes to give this egg to the queen."


	20. Lessons Interrupted

**Chapter 20**

Dathedr granted Eragon the day off, warning him to return early the following morning.

Eragon didn't have the heart to be amused by the old elf's words. Dathedr had a habit of pretending to be tough and stringent, but Eragon and Nasuada both knew he cared.

As he carefully placed the egg back into the sack, Nasuada caught his gaze. She looked sympathetic towards his situation—almost to the point of crying. But, at the same time, he could feel the hope well up inside her.

 _Do not feel sorry for Saphira and me,_ he said to her. _This egg brings a new hope for the Varden._

She smiled a little, though she didn't really look happy.

Swinging into Saphira's saddle, Eragon bid a proper farewell to Nasuada and his master. And then, they were in the air.

Saphira beat her wings slowly and rhythmically. _Do not be sorrowful, little one. You know as well as I that this is for the best. Haven't we had this conversation before?_

He nodded. _Yes we did, didn't we? You having the egg just reminds me of how I failed to protect you from Galbatorix and Shruikan._

 _It was not you failing to protect me that caused this; it was me failing to protect you. If I had done that properly, as dragons are supposed to do, we wouldn't have been captured. Let's put it behind us and look forward to a new Rider._ Saphira landed outside the grand archway of branches leading into queen Islanzadi's hall.

Eragon slid off her back and approached the queen who, as always, was seated at the end of the grand hall. Nobles watched his approach with discerning scowls. He had arrived uninvited.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin, Islanzadi Drottning," he said, bowing low before the queen.

She gave the appropriate answer and stopped him before he repeated the more formal line of the greeting. "What is it, Shur'tugal?"

"Please forgive me the intrusion, Islanzadi Drottning, but I have something for you and all the elves. Saphira does, actually." He looked back at Saphira, who had followed him inside.

 _My Rider and I wish to leave the last remaining dragon egg in your care,_ she said directly.

Eragon pulled the glimmering object out of his sack, drawing gasps from many of the nobles.

Islanzadi nodded. "I thank you both. It pains me to think what evil has resulted in this egg's existence, but we can hope that the dragon inside will be for the best.

"But, I also need to speak with you, Eragon-finiarel. I have a message for you." She sent a very meaningful look to the nobles and they began to leave. "Arya and I, as I've told you, have been scrying each other every morning at sunrise. This morning, she informed me that they are not doing well in Aberon. A Shade has been poking around in our affairs and she fears the worst. Vanir-vor managed to deter the Shade, but it will be back. They need your assistance, Shadeslayer."

Eragon was startled by this news. "Another Shade?"

"Yes. I suspect that Galbatorix encourages his sorcerers to call upon powerful spirits just to have more Shades. They are not as uncommon as they used to be."

He bowed his head. "I must leave then. But I will not take Nasuada. She and Barzul both need the training—and they need rest. The peaceful air of this city will heal their spirits and make them stronger."

Islanzadi seemed pleased with his conclusion. "Leave then, Shur'tugal. The sooner, the better."

"Tonight then?" he asked.

"That will be fine. If our need was not so great, I would have a feast in your honor, but we _are_ at war. Such niceties are not appropriate."

He bowed once more and left the hall of trees, climbing once more into Saphira's saddle.

She flew him up into their room halfway up a large tree.

He took out a satchel and shoved a spare set of clothes into it, also adding a sac full of fresh fruit and bread. _I'll only need one flask,_ he thought absentmindedly to himself, filling the flask to its brim and shoving it into the bag. _What now, Saphira?_

 _Your sword, Eragon!_

 _Oh… right._ He strapped the sword to his belt. _All ready._

Nasuada walked back to her little apartment, her head buzzing with new words. _Adurna, hlaupa… what's the other one I can never remember? The word for 'stop'?_

Barzul, dancing alongside her, caught her last thought. _Stop? 'Blothr.'_

She was taken aback. _Thank you!_

He sent a mental, not-so-humble shrug through their link and began prancing about.

 _I should have named you 'Vain' in the dwarf language._ She laughed at him.

Rounding the next turn in the dirt path, Nasuada spotted her little cabin. Eragon sat against the woven walls, waiting for her.

"Kvetha Fricai," she said, touching her fingers to her lips. They had begun speaking to each other in the ancient language for practice.

He stood. "Kvetha. I am leaving Du Weldenvarden tonight."

"Why?" she asked, startled. Already, a million visions of destruction were flashing through her mind. She switched to the human tongue, not bothering to translate into the ancient language. "Is the Varden in danger? Why did they ask for you on such a short notice?"

"It's nothing," he said, also speaking in the human tongue, "they just would like to have me around—to get the word out, you know."

She studied his face. It was obvious he was trying not to worry her. "Why did they really send for you?"

"I told you," he said.

Nasuada glared at him.

Barzul, sensing his Rider's frustration, came to her side and watched the conversation curiously. Already, his head came to her stomach.

"What are you hiding?" she asked, speaking slowly so he would understand the seriousness of her inquiry.

He sighed, kicking up clouds of dust with his boot. "There was a Shade in Aberon."

She felt her blood run cold. "A Shade…?"

"Don't be alarmed. It probably isn't even a strong one. Nothing like Durza, I promise," he lied.

Nasuada took a deep breath. "That would be why they want you on short notice." Dread welled up inside her. Eragon would be in great danger no matter how weak he said the Shade was. She worried for him.

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Anyway," Eragon shifted from one foot to the other, "I just came to say goodbye. Saphira will be back from her last-minute hunting trip in only a moment."

"Take care of yourself, Eragon," Nasuada said.

"And you, Nasuada-elda," he grinned, "don't let Dathedr get you down too badly. And no matter what he says, don't spend too much time studying."

She smiled. "I don't think there's such thing as too much studying. Being around Dathedr, it's hard to believe there's such thing as _enough_ studying."

They both laughed.

Barzul, sensing the meaning of their conversation, crept towards Eragon playfully.

"You keep her safe, alright Barzul?" Eragon said, kneeling down.

The dragon pounced on him, pushing the Rider to the ground. _Goodbye!_ He managed to speak into Eragon's mind.

Eragon laughed at the dragon's playful manner, brushing dirt off his pants. "Goodbye to you too!"

Saphira emerged through the treetops and landed next to Eragon.

 _Goodbye, Saphira,_ Nasuada said to the sapphire dragon. _Keep him from killing himself for me, will you?_

Saphira snorted, _As always!_

"Farewell," she said to Eragon. "And be careful."

"As always," he said. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

A confused look was on Eragon's face as he mounted his dragon.

Barzul trotted up to Saphira and they touched noses.

Through her dragon, Nasuada could hear Saphira's words to him. _Hunt well, hatchling. You have potential._

Elation filled his mind and he replied, _Thanks!_

Saphira bent low to the ground and sprang into the air, disappearing above the trees.


	21. Building a Legend

Chapter 21

Arya ran outside the elven camp and joined the growing crowd of elves. They all looked to the horizon, where the bat-like silhouette of a dragon stood out against the setting sun.

"Shur'tugal," someone said in a pleased voice. "He's returned!"

A contented murmur spread throughout the crowd.

Arya left the group and started for the city, knowing that Eragon would land in the courtyard of the palace.

Vanir caught up with her. They both needed to speak with him.

"You think he was foolish enough to bring Nasuada back?" Vanir asked.

"He better not have been," Arya grumbled. "If she returns, we will have a hard time ever sending her back with Jormundor around. He wouldn't let her go."

"I don't think the Rider is that stupid, but if he is, I'll have a few choice words for him…" Vanir smiled grimly.

They wove through the buildings and finally came to the palace, where the guards let them enter without question.

In the courtyard, they waited patiently for Eragon.

"Perhaps we should start a big fire so he knows where to land?" Vanir asked, laughing.

Arya grinned. "No. I think we would need to spell it out for him. A sign, perhaps?"

Vanir seemed surprised at her humorous attitude. "A sign would do."

Heavy wing beats cut their conversation short. They backed away and looked to the sky.

Saphira descended in the center of the courtyard, shaking off dust from the dry journey. Eragon slid from the saddle and strode to them, speaking the elven greeting.

Arya and Vanir replied according to custom and Arya added, "Times are dire, Shadeslayer."

Eragon nodded. "About the Shade, do you think it will be back?"

Vanir spoke up. "It was poking around our business, which makes me assume it was serving under Galbatorix. If I'm right, it will be back as soon as its master allows. I somewhat embarrassed it by stabbing it in the back… revenge will be a main motive."

"That is not good," said Eragon, "But it will be a while before it can return, depending upon where it appeared after you stabbed it."

"Yes. But we need you here just in case," Arya said. "Jormundor will have tasks for you, and probably a short trip or two, but we want you available at short notice."

He nodded. "I will do my best."

"Good," Arya concluded, "we will meet to discuss plans in further detail at sunrise. Now go rest."

Eragon nodded and returned to Saphira, removing her saddle and taking his belongings inside.

The next morning, Jormundor sent Eragon and Saphira to help build a wall outside the city of Lithgow. It was not only meant to help them with construction, but create a stronger impression among the people.

With Saphira and Eragon helping, the people were given hope. Rumors spread throughout the countryside about Eragon's and Saphira's good nature and strength. Everyone looked up to them.

Every day, Saphira would fly large rocks to the construction site and help place them appropriately. With her assistance, the job was done in only three weeks.

Soon after, Eragon spent time in Dauth helping the Varden smuggle supplies across the border. He became a sort of icon to the people, sending messages here and there and performing good deeds in public. They grew to love him and trust him.

Word spread across the border and into the Empire, causing a great underground movement of immigrants. More people joined the Varden every day.

Eragon heard no more of the Shade. He did not know if that was a good thing or not, but still kept a close eye out. Occasionally, he would ask Arya about news from Ellesmera, wondering how Nasuada was doing in her training. But Arya always replied, "All is the same," a very unfulfilling answer.

Thus the next three months passed in a blur of missions and waiting.

Barzul raised his wings and roared. It wasn't yet a mighty roar, as Saphira's was, but a loud growl. He pawed at the dirt, begging to join the fun.

 _No!_ Nasuada insisted. _I'll never learn a thing if you win all my battles for me!_ She gripped her sword, light reflecting off the edge.

"Center your weight, Nasuada. Light on your toes now," said Dathedr.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The number of times she had heard that numbered in the thousands. Trying to catch the elf off guard, she charged at him, going for a stab in the stomach.

He deflected her blow with inhuman speed and began a complex attack routine.

Nasuada struggled to parry, bringing her sword up to sluggishly meet Dathedr's. She tried every move she knew, attempting to turn the fight around, but her muscles were weakening already.

The elf kept his movements slowed to a human-like speed, but he still had the advantage. He abruptly changed his method of fighting and went for her legs, tapping his blade against her shin. "You've lost your leg, Nasuada."

She clenched her teeth, lifting that leg and continuing the fight on one foot.

Barzul laughed at her mentally. _Still want to fight this alone?_

 _YES!_ She said irritably, ducking to avoid another of Dathedr's deadly swings.

Dathedr brought his sword abruptly to her neck. "Do you give up?" he asked.

"A Rider doesn't give up," she answered.

The silver dragon snuck up behind Dathedr and reared up, cleanly knocking the elf over.

"I'm sorry, Ebrithil," Nasuada apologized, but she couldn't hide the smile.

Dathedr stood up, sheathing his sword. "It's about time you two started acting as one. I've been waiting for this a long time."

She scowled. "So that's what you wanted? For me to cheat?"

"It's not cheating," he said, "it's using your natural advantages. Life isn't fair. I'm an elf—does that mean I should act like a human while fighting humans to take that advantage away?"

"No sir… I just thought that, for training purposes, you'd want me to…"

"I'd want you to avoid using your natural advantages as a Rider? I think not. You should practice fighting together and using that advantage. It will help minimize your weaknesses. Having said that, I don't want Barzul or myself to get hurt, so tell him to hold back his strength when we spar."

She nodded. He always spoke of using advantages, and it was finally coming together. The whole time he'd been telling her to use Barzul, but she hadn't seen it.

"You are dismissed for today. Good work, Shur'tugal."

Nasuada bowed her head in respect. He was letting her go early for once.

Barzul strode to her side. He was the size of a large horse already, and his muscles were strong and bulky from all the hunting he had done. _We did well today, Nasuada. I could hear it in his voice._

 _Yes. He was pleased,_ she agreed. _I'm exhausted though. Will you carry me to the cabin?_

Her dragon bent his head down in answer and she climbed onto his back. Though he wasn't yet big enough to fly with her, he often carried her over ground.

 _When do you think you will be able to fly me?_ She asked.

 _Not today,_ he groaned, _you're too fat!_

She slapped his neck playfully. _Look who's talking! You took Saphira's hunting lessons a little too seriously._

 _Did not!_ He snorted.

 _You hardly think about anything but food!_ She laughed.

 _I do too…_

They arrived at her cabin and went through the door. Nasuada collapsed on the bed. _You should be glad you don't have to train!_ She said.

He lay next to the bed and rested his head on her stomach. _I wish there was a dragon to teach me in Ellesmera._

 _You're too young anyway,_ she said before drifting to sleep.


	22. The Calm

**Chapter 22**

When Goroth returned from her mission in Aberon, she was not called before Galbatorix for some time. He was in such a rage he didn't even know how to go about punishing the Shade. The King fell into an awful temper, secluding himself inside the strategy room and having limited contact with the servants.

Elva was sometimes admitted into his presence, only to be lectured on his plan for the Empire and told in detail how the lowly Varden was messing up his future. She watched his moods with sober interest, as his mind intrigued her.

"Do you know what those ruthless dogs would stoop to?" Galbatorix asked her one day. "They had dwarves in the battle of the Burning Plains. DWARVES!" He threw an oil lantern across the room and observed as it shattered against the wall and spilled oil on his rug.

He walked to the table and picked up an apple, tearing into it with his teeth. "And," he said with his mouth full, "they dare to enter my home and steal the last hope for bringing the Riders back? It's preposterous."

"The silver egg was not the key for bringing the Riders' return."

His glare was enough to make even the bravest of men quiver in fear. "Not that one, you _child_. I mean the sapphire blue egg; the most promising egg; the one and only female dragon. Now I must contain the dragon and her idiot Rider or else destroy all hope of restoring peace in Alagaesia. How inconvenient!"

She watched with mild curiosity as he went deeper into a state of madness. It was interesting to see a man so passionate about his vision that he spent all his time lamenting over how it was being spoiled rather than acting on it. Galbatorix was so intent on being mad at the Varden that he forgot entirely about Murtagh and Thorn, who were still in confinement.

One day, Elva was called into the strategy room to find it tidied up and well lit—not at all the dungeon it used to be. Galbatorix sat on the throne with a determined look on his face.

"You called?"

"Yes. I am through with that group of dimwits we refer to as the Varden. We will destroy them once and for all."

Elva raised her eyebrows. "It's about time."

"DO NOT TALK BACK TO THE KING, CHILD!" he shouted. "I have made my decision and you will do what I say."

"I am not your pet," she answered calmly, "as I've previously mentioned. I have joined you out of common interest: causing pain to the Varden and to Rider Eragon. If you abuse this alliance, I may not be quite as agreeable as I am right now."

A flicker of hatred and pure rage ran across his face, but he appeared to reconsider. "See it as you wish, but I'd like for you to release Murtagh from his cell. He's been there long enough. And tell him he may see Thorn if he cooperates. I will call the Shade to me and assemble troops. The Varden shall cease to exist once and for all."

She left briskly, wondering how strong he thought their alliance was.

"Sit down, please," Jormundor said to Eragon, not even looking up from his work.

Eragon sat across from the leader, wondering what the occasion was. He had been called in the middle of the night without warning and asked to come before Jormundor. Arya sat in the chair next to him.

"Galbatorix is assembling an army outside Uru'baen. Our contacts say it will leave for Aberon in a fortnight. We must prepare."

Eragon was jolted by this news. Nothing of importance had happened in the Empire for months. _This is quite sudden,_ he remarked to Saphira. "What can I do for the Varden?" he asked Jormundor.

"Get Nasuada. This army the King is building has grown to three times our number already, and he isn't finished yet. If we have any hope left, it lies with you and Nasuada."

Arya's lips formed a thin line.

"Surely Galbatorix isn't going to take us with one battle…" Eragon's voice drifted off.

"The way he's going about it, it seems he intends to."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yes. We need you and Nasuada here before they attack. You will leave after this meeting."

"I will send word to Islanzadi," Arya said. "This is grim news."

"Yes, but I believe it can work to our advantage." Jormundor ran a hand through his hair.

"My Lord?" Arya inquired.

"With Galbatorix concentrating all his power on Aberon, we can most effectively begin our own battle. We will take Dras Leona while he marches toward Aberon. From there, we can set our sights for Uru'baen."

"A very bold move," Eragon said, his mind racing. It was a risky plan, but it might work.

"I assume you will have this city evacuated before the Empire arrives then?" Arya said.

"Yes, but not until the last moment. The King must know nothing until his troops are almost here."

Arya looked down in concentration, apparently weighing the amount of genius against the amount of outright stupidity in his plan. She abruptly lifted her chin and said, "It is time we made a final move in this war. The time has come for us to win or lose. The elves are behind you in this decision."

"Good. Let's not waste any more time. Arya, spread this news to the elves. Eragon, prepare to leave for Ellesmera."

Eragon grabbed his things and met Saphira in the courtyard. "We must be quick about this," he murmured, speaking the words into her mind as well, "it will be a long journey back because we will have Barzul slowing us down."

 _Indeed._ Saphira leapt into the air and started for Ellesmera once more.

Arya first sought out Vanir. She could not find him in the camp and no one knew where he was. Finally, she spotted his silhouette in the moonlight outside the camp.

Walking up behind him, she asked, "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," he said vaguely, looking up at the stars.

"What about?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, grinning. "Now this is a day for the history books. Arya Drottningu wants to know what _I_ think!"

She pursed her lips. "Galbatorix is building an army outside Uru'baen."

"I am not surprised." Vanir laid down on the grass to look at the sky. "The Shade's appearance must have been a prelude to his big move."

"You have kept to yourself more since the Shade's disappearance. What is it?" She sat beside him, gazing at the stars herself. They were shining very brightly that night. A gentle breeze kept the night cool, and the crickets were chirping fervently to one another. She soaked it all in, enjoying what would be the final moments of peace before the battle preparations began.

"The Shade spoke of Durza. The real Durza, not the body the Shade possessed. She said she knew him and also mentioned he had a horrible death. 'But,' I said, 'all Shades die by being stabbed through the heart.' She hinted that Shades have a life before becoming evil spirits. I just don't know what to think."

Arya understood his dilemma. As elves, they had no reason to believe life after death existed. For years, her people had avoided speculation on the matter of where Shades' spirits come from; but Vanir had been thrust into the position of speaking to a real live Shade about it. "Don't dwell on it, Vanir," she said. "We will destroy the Shade no matter where it comes from."

He smiled faintly, pulling up into a sitting position next to her. "You've always had a strong spirit," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

Arya touched his cheek briefly. They were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath.

Vanir leaned toward her, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.

"We must tell the others about Galbatorix," she said, standing abruptly.

"Why do you always run?" Vanir asked, not moving.

"I am not running," she insisted. "I'm just performing my duties as the Queen's representative and daughter. You should try putting duty before passion sometime, too."


	23. Gift of a Rider

**Chapter 23**

Nasuada drew her sword and faced the three figures in front of her. Barzul dug his claws into the rich soil and gave a hearty growl.

 _Barzul dear, that's not going to scare them away,_ she remarked, judging her opponents with a keen eye, _you sound more like a dog than a dragon._

 _Do not!_ he retorted, trying to give a mighty roar. It didn't fail entirely. The sound was more like the call of a coyote rather than the screetchy hissing noise it used to be.

Nasuada lunged at the nearest opponent, their swords clashing in midair.

As expected, the elf blocked her blow with little effort. He also blocked the next six.

Barzul ran for the remaining two elves and settled for a full-body slam into the first one. The elf's light frame went down quite easily, but the second one was prepared. This one dove to the side and nicked Barzul's tail with the tip of his magically dull sword.

Barzul hissed at the humiliation and swung his head around, attempting one of his favorite moves. During these spars he was not allowed to bite, so he would frequently bash his head into opponents quite forcefully, mouth shut tightly as not to injur them permanently.

The elf dodged his move and started circling the silver dragon.

Nasuada ducked to avoid the fast-swinging sword and tried to nick her opponent's shin, but the elf blocked her with ease. In one swift movement, he knocked her blade away, rendering her weaponless.

Barzul, well aware through their connection that Nasuada was in trouble, leapt into the air and descended upon the elf she was fighting.

"Thank you!" she murmured, reaching for her sword. But a booted foot stepped on her hand.

The third elf, the one Barzul had left behind in his rush to help Nasuada, held the tip of his sword to her neck. "Dead," he whispered, grinning.

Nasuada smiled. "You guys got us again."

Barzul backed up reluctantly, shifting his wings.

 _It was a good fight,_ Nasuada thought to him, standing up.

 _Good fight? I got my scales all dusty!_ He tossed his head indignantly.

"Thank you Liarnum, Piersus, and Sirvuelk," Nasuada said, touching a finger to her lips.

The two evles on the ground got to their feet and brushed the dirt off their clothes.

Dathedr strode into the field, scowling. "You need to keep your eyes open, Nasuada! How many times must I tell you to be aware of your surroundings? Have the hours spent meditating done nothing?"

She turned to her master, sighing. "I apologize, Ebrithil. It is just so hard to remain entirely open while fighting such experienced swordsmen. And besides, I can see what Barzul does; between the two of us, we are fairly aware of the action."

"FAIRLY aware isn't good enough," he said irritably, "do it again. And this time, open your mind and keep it open throughout the whole fight. And, no matter what, use EVERY advantage!"

She wiped the gathering sweat from her brow and nodded, facing the three elves once more. "Does anyone need healing before the next fight?"

None of them did.

"Let's begin then," she said, lifting her sword.

 _Open your mind, Nasuada_. Barzul lifted his wings threateningly towards the elves.

She reached out and felt the life all around her. There wasn't much; all vegetation in the area was mainly worn down from the frequent sparring on the field. She went further and felt the trees at the edge of the clearing. They were slow and consistent, as always.

 _What more can he ask of you?_ Barzul grumbled.

 _There has to be something he's trying to teach me. Something we're missing..._ She thought hard.

 _'Use every advantage...' he says that a lot. What advantages do we have over them? We work as a team... We are connected...?_ he snorted.

 _No... 'every advantage...' Barzul, what's the only advantage I've refrained from using? What's the one I don't use because it might be unfair?_ She grinned, eyeing her opponents and waiting for them to make the first move.

Her dragon sensed the thought even before she said it. _I can't believe I didn't think of that! It's just something Dathedr would expect of us._

Nasuada reached into the depths of her mind as she'd done in a thousand lessons and spoke the word, "Malthinae!"

The three elves froze, unable to move.

Turning to Dathedr, Nasuada said, "Is that good enough, Ebrithil?"

He grinned. "Yes. You may release them now."

She did so, proud to have learned the lesson and also relieved that she didn't have to be beaten _again_ by the three elves. Shortly after she and Barzul started fighting together, Dathedr had brought the three elves to their lessons. He would watch them spar every day and comment on her wrongdoings. It was very challenging- and, most of all, tiring- for Nasuada and Barzul.

"Nasuada-elda," called an elf from across the field.

Nasuada immediately recognized the young elf maiden as a messenger for the queen. "What is it?"

"Islanzadi-drottning requests an audience, Nasuada-elda."

Curious, Nasuada glanced pleadingly at Dathedr. He did not like his lessons to be interrupted.

The old elf muttered something about never getting anything done without an intrusion. Nevertheless, he said, "Go. The Queen calls."

She smiled, giving a polite farewell to her master and to the three elves.

The messenger accompanied Barzul and Nasuada to Islanzadi's hall and left them alone with the Queen.

"You asked for my presence?" Nasuada asked, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips.

"Yes. I have recieved word from Aberon. Eragon-finiarel is on his way to Ellesmera. You two are to return to Surda as soon as possible."

"Why?" a shadow of fear rose within Nasuada.

"Because we are to make a final move in this war. Galbatorix is preparing for battle and so must we. I say this not to upset you, but to keep you up to date on the news from Aberon. Not long ago, you were the first person to know these things. I imagine you would be somewhat distraught to be the last one hearing of these things."

"I would..." Nasuada looked at the floor, releasing a long-held breath. The time had finally come. She was but weeks away from the battle her whole life had led up to. The battle that her father's life had been leading towards. All of the Varden had spoke of this moment for years.

"Do not be disturbed nor anxious about this news, Nasuada-finiarella. Dathedr will wrap up your training for the time being and I will host a dinner in your honor." The queen smiled down at Nasuada lovingly. "You have improved much, Shur'tugal. Though you know nothing of it, I have watched your progress in training. You will be a great threat in the coming battle." She turned to Barzul. "And, Mighty Barzul Knurlar, do not think I have forgotten you. You are perhaps the brightest dragon for your age, and there is still so much to learn. A mighty foe you are, and a curse to the Empire you shall be. Indeed, you will fulfill your name."

Barzul and Nasuada bowed their heads at the compliments.

"As Riders preparing for battle, you will need weapons. I have here a fine blade- perfectly balaced. And also, I have had a dragon saddle brought to your cabin. It will fit Barzul Knurlar fine."

Nasuada took up the blade that Islanzadi offered her. It was light enough for her to wield easily, yet heavy enough to be dangerous to an enemy. It was polished so well, she could see her own reflection on the flat side of its blade. As promised, it was perfectly balanced. Islanzadi smiled. "You see the jewels on the handle?"

Nasuada examined the Ruby stones set along the hilt. "Yes."

"You can begin storing energy inside them, as I'm sure Dathedr has taught you about."

"There are no words to express my grattitude," she said, bowing.

"It is a shame you cannot recieve a Rider's sword. The only remaining one belonged to Oromis, Eragon's master. As tradition goes, Eragon will inherit it."

"Eragon's teacher had a Rider's sword? How in Alagaesia did he come by it?" Nasuada couldn't help but be alarmed.

"He was a Rider, my dear. But he was so weak he had nothing left to fight. All Oromis could do was keep his existence secret and hope to live long enough to train the next Rider. He did that."

Nasuada grimaced. "Why didn't Eragon tell me this?" She felt a lump rise in her throat. _Why would Eragon keep this from us? It's not something that you just forget to mention!_

 _I don't know,_ Barzul said, also startled at this news.

"He swore an oath to keep it secret, and so he has. I felt you, as a Rider, have a right to know." Islanzadi put a hand on Nasuada's shoulder. "

"Are there any others I don't know about?"

"No."

Nasuada breathed deeply. They were speaking in the ancient language, so the elf could not be decieving her. "Thank you for informing me, Islanzadi Drottning. And thank you for the gifts. They are greatly appreciated."


	24. The Key

**Chapter 24**

Saphira alighted to the forest floor right outside Islanzadi's hall. It was midday, and elves all around turned to admire the mighty dragon.

 _It has been a long time,_ Eragon thought, breathing in the scent of fresh pine. He had missed the city greatly.

 _It has. Let us go inside,_ Saphira said, walking through the archway.

Eragon followed her into the hall. Elven nobles were, as usual, sitting along the wall. They offered their greetings with blank faces, but he knew they were anxious. War was causing a stir among even the elves.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin," he murmured to the queen.

She replied in the appropriate manner, saying, "We were expecting you, Eragon-finiarel. A dinner in you and Shur'tugal Nasuada's honor will be held tonight, and you will leave by morning."

"I mean this most respectfully, Islanzadi Drottning, but I'm afraid there is not time for such things. We must return to Surda and prepare for battle." Eragon bowed his head.

"Nonsense. You will not arrive in Surda nearly as quick unless you have proper rest. Please take the time to rest in your quarters before dinner. Your journey will be much faster that way."

He nodded, unable to go against the queen's wishes. Saphira and he walked back down the hall and into the clearing.

Suddenly, a silver figure swooped down from the sky and landed next to Eragon.

"Barzul!" Eragon exclaimed, admiring the dragon's strong frame and shiny scales. "You aren't a hatchling anymore!"

Barzul tossed his head. _Of course I'm not a hatchling!_

Saphira nudged him with her nose. _I hope you've practiced hunting._

 _All the time!_

"Eragon!" shouted Nasuada, running to him. "Kvetha fricai!"

He smiled at her. "How has your training been?"

She shrugged. "Better. How have you and Saphira been? Did you find the Shade?"

He was surprised by her good pronunciation and use of the ancient language. "The Shade did not return."

"Good."

While they spoke, Saphira arranged another hunting lesson with Barzul, so the two dragons flew off together.

Nasuada and Eragon walked side by side through the wood, enjoying one another's company. He had not realized how much he missed Nasuada. Du Weldenvarden seemed to have had a good effect on her; there was a spring in her step and she seemed less frazzled than before.

"Tell me," he said, "how was training _really_?"

She laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, it's alright. Dathedr frustrates me at times, but I could not have had a better teacher." She appeared to reconsider her statement, and then added, "…except another Rider, like Oromis."

He stopped and turned to face her. "You know?"

She nodded. "I understand why you didn't tell me. Islanzadi Drottning explained the situation. I am sorry he died, Eragon," she said, touching his arm briefly.

"I'm fine," he said, starting to walk again. "Oromis was a good teacher. If he had been healed instead of I, Galbatorix would not stand a chance. As it was, he could only perform simple spells."

"Tell me: how bad is the situation with Galbatorix?" she asked, her face serious.

Eragon sighed. "It is bad. Jormundor explained it in full right before I left. At that time, the army was already equal to half of the population of Surda. He intends to destroy us swiftly and neatly."

She bit her lip a little. "And what is Jormundor's plan of action?"

"Do not trouble yourself with how he runs the Varden," he said. "You will just lament over how you would have done it."

"I just want to know. Tell me, Eragon." She stood firm.

He explained the plan briefly, studying her reaction.

"It is not a good plan, but it's our best chance. Honestly, do you think we have a chance at all?"

"There is one, but it's a very, very small chance." His hands formed a fist. "They have a Shade and a powerful Rider. If Galbatorix actually decides to show up, he'll be a second Rider—and the most powerful one."

"We have two Riders…" Nasuada's voice drifted off.

Eragon sat against a tree. "What are we against Galbatorix? And a Shade will be powerful enough that it will take both of us to take it down. I merely got lucky with Durza. And Murtagh beat me fair and square on the Burning Plains. We are outnumbered, Nasuada. Our only chance is a miracle."

"Stop speaking like that, Eragon!" she paced back and forth. "You're normally such an optimist. Don't bring me down with you!"

He looked away. She was right. He was being foolish. His grumbling would do nothing more than decrease their odds of winning. "I'm sorry, Nasuada."

"You should be. I know how you feel though. I feel like we need something more—some weapon to use against him. We need to find his weakness."

Eragon sat up straight. "What did you say?"

Nasuada scowled. "I said we need to find his weakness."

"Before that… you said we needed a weapon…" He looked up. Without realizing it, he had sat beneath the Menoa tree. " _When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree…_ " He spoke a sentence in the ancient language and began moving the dirt aside with magic.

"What are you talking about, Eragon? Why are you…" Nasuada stopped to stare. For, just then, Eragon uncovered a wooden box buried several feet in the earth.

He stood, brushing the dirt away. It was a small box, only a foot's length across, and very narrow.

"What's inside?" Nasuada asked.

"A weapon." He opened the top of the box and froze.

"Eragon?"

He pulled out a scroll and opened it. "It's a letter from Oromis… I don't understand. _This_ is a weapon?"

"Read it."

He studied the parchment. It read:

 _Eragon-finiarel,_

 _By the time you read this, I will be long dead. It pains me to think that I will not be the one to complete your training, but all the things you have yet to learn must be learned by experience. Glaedr and I can be of no help there._

 _As my final request, I ask you to carry on the tradition of the Riders. Saphira and you are the most important beings in Alagaesia. Even if you are captured, do not despair. It is better for you to submit to the Empire than to allow the Dragons to go extinct. For only with the dragons' aid can Galbatorix be defeated._

 _Death is in the air; I can smell it. The final battle is approaching. All I have left to give you for this battle is your name. Remember its value and guard it well; for with it, you can do great things, or terrible things._

 _No matter what happens; even if Galbatorix himself learns your name, do not use it for the purpose of gaining power. This is how he has become most powerful over the years, yet it comes at a great price._

 _If there ever was a higher power, the evidence would lie in the human soul. Guard yours at all costs, for your name holds the key to your soul._

 _Your name is, as an old herbalist once told your mother, the same as the first Rider Eragon. It is Yawe Edoc'sil. I believe you know what to do with it._

 _Your friend and teacher,_

 _Oromis_

Eragon read it over once more, unable to comprehend it fully.

"What did he say, Eragon?" Nasuada asked.

"I… it's… he told me my name. That is the weapon."

She was genuinely surprised. "What kind of a weapon is that? It's more like a weakness to know your name…"

"I must speak it into the vault of souls. A werecat told me to. I suppose that will help turn the war around." He rolled the scroll up tightly. "But he forgot to mention the location of the Vault itself or even what it is. My name is useless without it. He has given me the key, not the door."


	25. Respite

Chapter 25

As promised, Islanzadi held a dinner in their honor that night. During the celebration, she formally presented Oromis's gold sword to Eragon.

He accepted it grimly, thanking her. But for the rest of the night, he stayed clear of the festivities, lurking in the shadows and avoiding conversation.

Nasuada left him to his thoughts. She and Barzul participated in the meal and listened to the beautiful songs. Never in her life had Nasuada been one for music, but the elven voices had her entranced. The music was so captivating she could not turn away.

Many Elves performed for the party, each bringing forth a song even more enchanting than the last. Half of the night was spent with dancing and singing and poem reciting.

The next morning, Nasuada's head was buzzing with music. It took a good while for Barzul to wake her fully.

 _Nasuada,_ he said, _Saphira and Eragon are getting ready to leave. We must prepare!_

She reluctantly climbed out of bed and yawned. _How much sleep did we get?_

 _Enough._

 _Gee, that's specific._ She pulled on a pair of breeches and a tunic and brushed out her coarse hair. Once it was in a tight bun, she shoved her belongings into a sack and stood. _What am I missing?_

 _My saddle; remember?_ Barzul walked across the cabin and nudged the leather seat with his nose.

She sighed. _It's not like you'll be able to fly with me._

 _No, but it will be useful during battle. I will not have you riding a horse!_

Nasuada gave in, securing the saddle and strapping her bag to it. _There!_ She stood back to observe her work. The saddle was a little large for Barzul, but it worked fine.

He spread his wings out to test his flexibility. His wingspan was almost too big for the cabin. _I think it will do._

 _Great, let's get outside._

Bazul struggled in fitting through the narrow doorway, but managed to exit the cabin successfully.

Nasuada followed him out and climbed in the saddle. They made their way to the large tree in which Eragon was housed.

She looked up, not wanting to climb all the way up the tree to his apartment. But she was not forced to do so; for Saphira emerged from the opening in the tree and glided down to them, Eragon on her back.

"All ready?" Nasuada asked.

"Yes," Eragon said. "We'll be a little slow going since Barzul cannot ride in your satchel any longer, but it won't take too long. The journey will strengthen him."

Saphira bent low and entered Nasuada's mind. _Climb up. We're traveling all together once more!_

Nasuada obeyed, smiling as she hoisted herself in the saddle behind Eragon. With her legs secured tightly, she put her arms in their familiar place around Eragon's waist and braced herself for the takeoff.

Saphira soared into the air, slowing to a very relaxed speed so Barzul could keep up. The silver dragon had to flap his wings twice as often to maintain the same speed.

They took many breaks that day. Barzul never once complained, but the others knew he was tiring. All in all, they covered half the distance Saphira could have flown by herself.

The following day did not prove very promising. Barzul's muscles were sore from the previous day's activities, and he was not accustomed to long distance flights.

On the third morning, they reached the desert. The silver dragon's biggest complain then was that the dust was dirtying his scales.

By the fifth day of travel, Barzul Knurlar had recovered from his aches and began to show improvement. Eragon, Nasuada, and Saphira tried to encourage him as much as possible, but they were still aware of the importance of the journey. If they missed the battle, all would be lost.

Arya burst out of Jormundor's office, fuming.

Vanir, who had been loitering around and waiting for the meeting to be over, strode to her side. "What is it?"

"Galbatorix's army will be here in four days I judge. Witnesses say there is a red dragon in the company, along with a Shade," she said, walking to a window in the stone wall and gazing out at the city. People crowded the streets, oblivious to the danger that approached them at record speed.

"Well... are you really surprised?" He asked.

"No. What frustrates me is that Jormundor has not notified the people." She sighed and leaned against the wall.

Vanir sighed. "You have to understand why he cannot tell them."

"Yes, I know. It is the only way. If he notified the people, that would alert the spies Galbatorix is sure to have planted among them. We must act swiftly and at the last moment. He has already notified our most trusted generals. They are ready to give the command and gather their troops at last minute. Everything is how it must be done. My only regret is that we have no other choice. This plan is very risky."

"If there is no other way, do not lament over it." Vanir touched her arm.

Arya studied her boots. "I just… there has always been _hope_ ; but has there ever been a _chance_ of victory? This question has been boring itself into the back of my mind since Faolin…" she looked around the room, not finishing the sentence and gazing at anything but him. "I pride myself in being strong and firm—showing no weaknesses. But that doesn't mean I have no regrets… no moments of despair…"

He touched her cheek. "Look at me, Arya." She did, but reluctantly. "To show emotion is not a weakness. It proves we are not like Galbatorix; we have our sanity and we not only can practice logic, but we can feel the consequences of thinking logically. Do not hide that difference between us and him."

She nodded mutely, her emerald green eyes glistening in the candle light. Slowly, almost as if in a dream, the liquid gathered in her eye and a single tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a trail behind.

Vanir brushed the tear away and cupped Arya's face in his hands. He, Vanir of Ellesmera, had witnessed the elf princess show emotion besides anger. For the first time, she had opened up to him. Before he could think about it, Vanir leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't even an intentional move; he just found himself kissing her.

Arya stiffened for only a second before relaxing. Her hands found their way up his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He reached out to her mind, not wanting to interrupt the kiss for speech. _I expected you to slap me across the face for this one, you know._

A flicker of amusement crossed her mind. _That was my initial plan, but I like this one better._ For once, Arya did not block him. Rather, she embraced his presence.

 _We're getting close,_ Saphira commented, gliding over the grasslands.

 _Should we allow Barzul to be seen? I don't like the idea of announcing our arrival so spectacularly as to introduce another dragon to the public._ He glanced back at Barzul, who was keeping pace rather nicely.

 _No,_ Saphira said, _the people need not see him. If they see him, Galbatorix will hear of it. As of now, he will be surprised when another Rider shows up in Dras Leona. Let us keep it that way._

 _Then we'll wait until dark to enter the city,_ Eragon concluded. _Land when we can see Aberon on the horizon._

It was only an hour before the dull outline of buildings became sillouetted against the sunset.

Saphira explained the situation to Barzul and they landed, each stretching their wings from the flight.

Eragon leapt from the saddle and helped Nasuada down. "It won't be long before dark. This will be a short break."

She rubbed the kink in her neck. "I hope we don't rush off to battle too soon. I could use a hot bath and a night's rest."

He smiled faintly.

Darkness fell over the foothills and they prepared for another takeoff. In minutes, they landed in the palace courtyard.

A messenger quickly arrived and led them to Jormundor's office.

Eragon came through the door and bowed his head to the Leader. "Jormundor," he murmured in greeting.

Nasuada did not offer such a humble greeting. Instead, she strode to the chair across from Jormundor and said, "I heard you've been busy."

"Yes. And if I'm correct in guessing, you have been busy too."

"I have, thank you. Eragon tells me we are to invade Dras Leona. Is this true?"

"It is."

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow evening if all goes as planned. We will evacuate the city and gather our army with as much speed as possible. Dras Leona will hardly have any defenses left after Galbatorix recruited his army. I expect you here in the morning. You may rest until then."

Nasuada appeared uncomfortable with Jormundor's position of authority. Only months before, she was above him in rank. Things had changed.

"Will you allow me to speak to Rider Eragon in private?" he asked curtly.

"Yes, My Lord," she said, leaving without a second glance toward Eragon.

"What is this about?" Eragon demanded the moment she shut the door. "There is nothing you cannot say in front of her. We both know she is trustworthy."

"I just wanted to hear from an experienced magic wielder just how much Nasuada is capable of now. You have seen what she can do, no?"

"I have an idea, yes. She practices faithfully every night and speaks to me in the ancient language."

"Just how strong is she compared to you?" Jormundor leaned forward in his chair. "I want to know just how much faith I should put in her abilities. A simple overestimation can be fatal for the Varden."

Eragon approved of his inquiry. "With the sword, she is equal with the average trained swordsman. With magic, she is slightly less skilled than I. Her dragon, Barzul Knurlar, is strong in endurance, but he is small. He cannot yet carry her in flight. In short, she will be a help in the battle, but it will not be easy."

Jormundor nodded silently. "Thank you for being honest with me, Shadeslayer. I will consider your comments while planning the battle. You may rest now, if it pleases you."

Eragon bowed, grateful. His clothes were covered with filth from the journey.


	26. Dreams of Turmoil

**Chapter 26**

 _The faces were clear this time, but the room remained hazy._

" _I am here for the egg. Where is it?" he demanded._

" _You will not find it here, Murtagh."_

" _Then I shall search elsewhere. If you try and stop me, I cannot hesitate to kill you." He reached for her, resting a hand tenderly on her cheek. She grabbed it and pushed it away._

 _He looked at her hand, an expression of dread crossing his face. There, on her left palm, was a gidwey ignasia. "I see how it is. Now I should kill you, Nasuada."_

" _There is nothing I can do to stop you," she said. "Do it."_

 _He drew his sword and lunged at her. Nasuada leaped aside and pulled a sword of her own from the folds of her dress. "Murtagh, you have become a tool. When was the last time you did anything by your own command?"_

 _Their swords clashed, meeting in an X between them._

" _Are you nothing more than his puppet?" She asked, pushing his sword away._

 _Murtagh thrust his sword right for her heart, but she evaded it. "You know nothing," he spat vehemently. Their swords clashed once more, and then again. With one final blow, he knocked the blade out of her hand, rendering her weaponless._

" _Do it quickly," she requested in a quiet voice, backing up against the wall and tensing in preparation for the blow._

 _He came close to her and spoke into her ear. His words were not audible, but no matter what he said, his next move was unmistakable. Murtagh kissed Nasuada._

 _For what seemed like an eternity, their lips lingered on in a never ending kiss._

Eragon awoke abruptly, drawing his dagger and leaping to his feet before he knew what was going on.

 _What is it?_ Saphira asked.

 _It's Nasuada. She can't meet with Murtagh. I have to prevent it._ Eragon pulled his boots on and stormed across the courtyard.

 _Where are you going?_ Saphira asked.

 _I'm telling her. This cannot happen. If it means keeping her away from Jormundor's study forever, so be it._

Saphira searched for the memory in his mind but he blocked her out. _What happened that has made you so angry? She doesn't die in the dream, that much I can tell._

 _No, she doesn't die. But there are worse fates._ He entered a hall and quickly asked directions to Nasuada's quarters.

She was dressed and packing for the trip when he entered the room. It was a decent bed chamber furnished sensibly. Barzul lay on the floor across the room, puffing whiffs of smoke for each snore.

"Kvetha fricai," Nasuada murmured, "what a pleasant surprise."

Eragon did not even bother speaking in the ancient language. Translations took too much time. "Nasuada, I haven't told you of this, but I've been having a premonition of you I believe. It happens in a windowless room with double doors—much like your former office—and you and Murtagh fight there. We must prevent this from coming true."

Nasuada was visibly shaken. "Murtagh…?" she bit her lip.

"Just, whatever you do, don't…" Eragon tried to find the words, "don't… let your feelings take over."

She stood to her full height, trembling. "What did you see?"

"Nothing. Just be careful, alright?"

Barzul stirred, waking and coming to Nasuada. He looked curiously at Eragon.

"What do you think I'll do?" she asked.

"Again, nothing. I just know we were both close to Murtagh and I don't want any past… I just don't want the past to get in the way of our duties, okay?" He was flustered.

"Are you worried I'm going to go soft on you?" she scoffed.

"Well…" he stammered.

"Since you two are brothers, Eragon, I should be worried about YOU going soft. I am a grown woman and I am well aware of the importance of my duties. Thank you for your concern." She strode to the door and opened it for his exit.

Eragon hung his head. "Sorry… I just…"

"Apology accepted," she said quite abruptly.

He left, dejected.

Saphira contacted him. _What on earth did you dream?_

He grimly allowed the memory to drift to the surface of his mind as he trudged down the wide hall. Saphira studied it silently. _Well… you certainly took it personal. You hurried off to warn Nasuada about being kissed?_

 _Oh come on, Saphira. You know what that kiss means. She has feelings for him. That could be a big problem for the Varden and for us all._

 _Yes, but I don't think that's the only reason you were so offended by the way she returned the kiss so passionately._ Saphira met him at the edge of the courtyard. _When you just thought Murtagh was going to kill her, you said nothing. He kisses her and you're suddenly on the defensive side? It almost sounds like…_

 _You're being ridiculous,_ he said.

 _No I'm not. We are linked, Eragon. Don't pretend you don't have feelings for her._

 _I don't!_ he insisted. _Let's get ready for our meeting with Jormundor. It will only be a few moments before a messenger is sent._

Saphira hummed a little. _Sure; change the subject why don't you._

He left her in the courtyard and washed in his living quarters. It wasn't half an hour before a messenger called asking for his presence in Jormundor's office.

Down the halls he went and to the study of Jormundor. Nasuada met him at the door, but did not speak. They were announced and brought into the presence of the Leader.

"The time has come," Jormundor said simply. "I have given the signal, and our generals are gathering the army on the border between here and the Empire. Galbatorix's army, once they hear of this, will not be able to catch up before we take Dras Leona."

"And what then?" Nasuada asked. Eragon knew her well enough to tell she was frustrated having no say in the matter.

"When the citizens of the Empire see what we have done, they will join us. My hope is that our army will be larger after the battle of Dras Leona."

Nasuada seemed content with his answer.

"We leave at dark. Shortly after, the people of Aberon will be notified of the danger and they will evacuate secretly."

Eragon rubbed his chin in thought. "What's to stop the Empire from following the people of Aberon and destroying them? Surely they can track an entire population of a city."

"Yes, but before they catch up, they will receive word of our invasion. That is my hope anyway." Jormundor gathered a pile of papers and stacked them on his desk. "Be ready to leave at dusk. Nasuada, I hope you have kept your dragon's existence secret?"

"Yes."

"Good. We will keep it that way. Would you mind asking him to stay hidden in the daylight hours while we travel? It would be inconvenient for anyone to discover him."

"I will." Nasuada pursed her lips. She obviously had a problem with Jormundor's behavior toward her dragon. It sounded as if he referred to a glorified pet rather than a conscious being.

Eragon smiled. It frustrated him when others asked him to make Saphira do something. They failed to understand she had a mind of her own. "Is that all, My Lord?" he asked.

"Yes."

As promised, they were ready to go by sundown. A militia of soldiers was gathered five leagues outside the city along with the Elven warriors. Everyone felt the buzz of excitement that often occurs before the beginning of a new adventure.

Saphira and Barzul flew laps around the army as they traversed the hilly landscape. Through their messages, Eragon could warn Jormundor in advance if ever there was an ambush. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened.

They traveled mostly by night; the mission was of utmost secrecy. During the day, they had patrol groups of magic users circle the encampment, ready to erase the memory from any wanderers who happened upon the army.

While Saphira and Barzul continued their light-hearted hunting escapades, Nasuada remained painfully polite towards Eragon. Though she spoke to him, it was never about anything of importance. Their relatitonship had gone from close friends to distant acquaintances.

As for Arya, he scarcely saw her during their journey. Once or twice, he caught sight of her and Vanir from across the encampment, but they never spoke. His only confidant was Saphira.

For days they traveled, through the foothills and over the flatlands until, at long last, Saphira spotted a dark spot on the horizon.

 _Eragon, it's the rest of the Varden. There are so many of them! With our militia added to it, Dras Leona will have to put up a good fight!_


	27. Battle Plans

**Chapter 27**

With the final regiment added to the army, they were ready to set their sights for Dras Leona. It was not a well organized city, and with the division of loyalty even among the soldiers, they supposed it to be their best chance at victory.

The Varden's army moved slower with so many men, but they knew that Galbatorix's army was not about to catch up; he had five times the number of men. For days they traveled without news of the King's approach. But, on the seventh day, when they were just a day's march from Dras Leona, a messenger reached them.

Barzul was the first to see the man. Flying patrol duty, he spotted him around midday. Nasuada quickly informed the cavalry and they met him outside the camp, unsure if this was a friendly meeting.

"I am a friend," the messenger said. "I bring word from Aberon."

All was quickly explained in the presence of Jormundor, Eragon, Nasuada, and Arya.

"Galbatorix's army has raided the city," the man said, accepting a cantine of water. "They then followed the track of the citizens, apparently intending to attack them. But they changed course quite abruptly. They come this way, not six days' journey behind."

Jormundor considered this news, lightly touching his fingertips together in thought. "Sounds like they were informed of our existence just in time. Another day and they would have taken out the people of Aberon."

The messenger nodded, gulping down the water gratefully.

"Thank you for your message," Jormundor said, "you have done your duty well. Please get some rest; I'll see to it that you are treated well."

"Thank you, My Lord."

As soon as the man was out of the tent, Nasuada spoke. "We are still far ahead. The battle of Dras Leona will be over for days before the Empire tracks us."

"Yes," Arya agreed, "but will we have enough time to recover? And what of the new men you said would join us once we took Dras Leona? Surely they will not when the Empire is hot on our trail."

"People will come," Jormundor said. "It's our only chance," he added in a quiet voice.

They picked up the pace after that encounter, wanting to arrive before Galbatorix himself decided to defend his city.

It was evening of the next day when Saphira saw smoke on the horizon.

Jormundor, upon hearing this news, let his troops rest for the night. Eragon, Nasuada, and Arya were once again called to his tent.

"We will set off long before dawn. They cannot and will not see us coming, even if they may have been warned as to our approach," he said firmly. "Tomorrow, the battle of Dras Leona begins."

"What tactics will we use?" Nasuada asked. The tension between her, the former Leader, and Jormundor, the current one, was not yet gone.

"An advisor of mine suggested we surround the city and take out the defenses, but I suggest otherwise. If we can concentrate all of our force in one area, we can break into the city much easier. We will all charge at the main gate—that is the quickest way into the city. Climbing the walls is time consuming and dangerous for our men. Once we are in the city, we destroy the defenses from inside the wall."

Arya nodded in approval, but Nasuada merely pursed her lips.

"Will they have magic users?" Eragon asked.

Jormundor rubbed his chin. "Yes, but not any powerful ones. I'm afraid the King has placed all his strongest sorcerers to Surda."

"Now that isn't very bright," Nasuada said, smiling grimly.

"No, it isn't," Jormundor agreed. "Now, forgive me if I do not give instructions to you concerning magic, but it is not my expertise. Therefore, I humbly ask Arya to orchestrate that part of our attack."

"I assumed I would," she said shortly. "Vanir and I have already mapped out a plan. Every elf is assigned a certain number of humans to set wards over, depending upon that elf's skill with magic. Eragon and Nasuada will be our biggest offensive magic users." She turned to the two Riders. "You are not expected to protect anyone save for yourselves and your dragons. Do as much as you can to eliminate enemy magicians, but protect yourselves at all costs. We need you two."

Eragon nodded. It was a simple enough task: protect yourself + protect Saphira + kick some enemy butt = victory.

Jormundor dismissed them. It was getting late in the evening and they needed all the rest they could get.

Saphira met Eragon outside the city. _Will you fly with me?_ She asked.

 _On patrol duty?_ He asked. On most days, he flew patrols with her, but it was very tiring and he needed rest. Not only that, but he should put more energy into his belt and Oromis's sword. He had been storing up energy in both objects, but there was a little room left.

 _No; just for fun!_ She said, crouching low to the ground. _Barzul is on patrol._

Eragon began climbing into the saddle. _I suppose one flight wouldn't hurt._

She lurched into the air before he even had his legs buckled in.

 _Woah, watch it there!_ He said, tightening the last strap and holding onto her spikes.

Saphira flew higher and higher and then dropped into a steep dive.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of weightlessness. _Why can't we just keep flying? If we could just fly away and never hear of wars and Empires again, I'd be happy,_ he said. _We could be happy forever._

Saphira pulled up abruptly and began a steady climb in the air. _I wish the same things Eragon, whether or not they are reasonable. But you know as well as I that war is unavoidable. Besides, we couldn't leave Barzul, Nasuada, Arya, Angela, and Solembum all alone in this war. And think of all the others!_

 _Angela!_ He said, _I haven't seen her in ages. I wonder if she's in the camp or if she stayed behind with the people of Aberon._

Saphira snorted. _Angela isn't one to stay home and miss out on all the action. She said herself that she liked to be where things happened. And Solembum is always with her._

 _You're right. She has to be somewhere below us._ Eragon looked down at the army. Cooking fires were spread out between white and gray tents. The smell of cooking meat reached him faintly. It smelled delicious.

Saphira, sensing his thoughts, said, _Are you_ _sure_ _you don't want some meat? I could get some for you, you know._ Her manner was teasing. She knew him too well than to believe he would go back on his vow never again to eat meat.

 _Maybe just a bite,_ Eragon joked. _You know what I have a crave for? Dragon meat._

 _Dragon meat!_ Saphira said in mock rage, suddenly flying in a rough manner so that he would jerk around in the saddle.

He laughed. _Just kidding._

She settled into a swooping descension, meandering her way to the grassy earth.

 _I love you, Saphira,_ he said, hugging her around the neck. _No matter what happens tomorrow, remember that._

She landed lightly and twisted her elegant neck around to look him straight in the eye. _You don't need to tell me, Eragon. We are one. And tomorrow, we will be victorious._

 _I hope you're right,_ he said.

Arya got up long before the wake-up horns were to blow. She pulled on her boots and twisted her raven hair into a knot.

"You don't know how to rest," Vanir said, coming up behind her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I do too," she said, turning to face him, "I just choose not to sometimes."

He grinned, brushing his lips against her forehead. "We will be victorious today. Are you ready?"

"Always," she said, pulling her sword and belt off their cot. "Are you?"

"Not quite yet," he said, brushing a stray hair away from her face and kissing her full on the lips.

Arya lowered the sword to the ground and slipped her arms around his neck, savoring the sweet taste of the kiss. For the first time since Faolin's death, she felt at peace.


	28. The First Wave

**Chapter 28**

Eragon spoke an encantation in the ancient language, placing a ward around himself and Saphira. Next, he put one around Nasuada and Barzul, just in case.

The torchlights below showed brightly as they flew. When they neared the city, the lights disappeared, giving way to darkness.

 _Looks like they put their torches out,_ Eragon thought to Saphira.

 _Yes, we are close._ Saphira said. Faint glimmers of light could be seen in the distance. Guards would be on duty all around the city walls.

Suddenly, with a loud flapping of wings, Barzul came up next to them.

 _I thought you and Nasuada would be fighting on the ground,_ Saphira said curiously.

Barzul snorted, but it sounded more like a pant from keeping up with Saphira's fast pace. _Jormundor doesn't want anyone to know I exist. He thinks I'm too small to be of much help in the battle and that I'll just be a big target for attacks._

Saphira gave a sympathetic nod in mid-air. _I'm sorry, Barzul Knurlar. It is a shame you cannot fight. Jormundor's reasoning is flawed. He does not think you are strong enough to withstand the attacks you will undoubtedly receive, being a dragon. And, since you are small in his eyes, he doesn't think you would be any better than a horse. But he underestimates the power of our kind._

Barzul hung his head, dropping low in the air for a second before catching up once more. _I will listen to the human for now, but when Galbatorix comes, no one can stop me from protecting my Rider._

 _Of course not!_ Exclaimed Saphira, _You would not be a dragon and Rider if you did not stand up for each other in times such as that._

Eragon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _Saphira, don't encourage him. He might get hurt!_

 _Better to die protecting your Rider than to be a coward of a Dragon,_ she argued.

 _Please, Saphira. If you continue like this, he might get the idea to defy Jormundor now and fly off to his death immediately. At least remind him to stay clear of this battle._

She reluctantly returned to her conversation with Barzul, saying, _But do not think, young one, that you should join this battle. No, you should let us fight this one and then let out your fury on Galbatorix. Imagine how shocked he will be that his own dragon egg has hatched for the Rebel leader!_

A wave of self confidence and even smugness radiated off of Barzul as he fought to keep up with them. _Yes… that's what I'll do! It will be such a dramatic announcement to the world: another dragon has arisen!_

Saphira chuckled inwardly. Eragon too, was amused by the young dragon's confidence.

 _I should go to Leona Lake and polish my scales so that they shine all the brighter when we meet Galbatorix,_ Barzul said excitedly. _I'd hate to show up at the Evil King's lair with dirty scales…_

Eragon snorted with laughter, but he was kept from dwelling on the young dragon's vanity; for, at that moment, he felt energy draining from him. Someone was putting pressure on his ward around Nasuada.

He contacted Arya.

 _It has begun,_ she said simply.

Saphira warned Barzul to leave immediately and then broke into a swooping dive. They had arrived at the city gates and all the defenses were gathered there, fighting to keep the Varden out.

Eragon opened his mind and searched for the magic user who was attacking Nasuada. The person was easy to find, for they were putting up such strong blocks Eragon could sense it from the skies. He spoke in the ancient language, testing their ward. It was strong enough to be a challenge.

As he fought inwardly with the mage in a battle of strength, Saphira dropped low to the line of guards stationed on the wall. With a mighty breath, she cast fire about them, scorching several.

There came another pressure on Eragon's strength. One of the guards was trying to use magic to kill Saphira. Unfortunate for the soldier, he was not very bright. Against Eragon's strong shield, his spell could not complete itself and all the life was drained from him.

Eragon continued his battle with the first magician; the one who was attacking Nasuada. His spell of death pushed against the person's ward with increasing strength until, at last, it broke through and the magician fell to the ground, lifeless.

Below, the Varden were fighting fiercely with the guards, pushing their way to the city gates. Eragon, his mind open to the minds below, sensed the elves combining their energy into a spell that would open the gates. He put his own mind into the mix, aiding as best he could. There were, of course spells against such an attack, but not one strong enough to withstand a band of elves and a Rider. It broke free and the Varden charged through, fighting like warriors.

Another group of magical attacks hit Eragon and he was forced to deal with the magic users one by one while Saphira flew over the enemy, scorching them with azure flames.

It was early in the morning and the few early-rising citizens who were in the street quickly sought shelter. This helped the Varden greatly, for they did not have to distinguish friend from foe. All who remained were soldiers of the Empire.

Guards from all corners of the city joined the fight against the Varden, but they were far outnumbered. One by one, their magicians and sorcerers were eliminated, leaving their men prone to magical attacks.

At long last, the remaining troops were forced to retreat into the palace of Marcus Tabor, ruler of Dras Leona. Saphira circled the building, offering her assistance when possible. They had barricaded themselves inside and there wasn't much else to do but wait for the foot soldiers to break the door in.

Nasuada pulled back the string on her bow and released an arrow. It soared through the air and went in through a window of the palace. She knew not if it had reached anyone, but felt better knowing it had gone inside.

All the fighting was going on at the entrance. A group of their largest men was pushing hard against the dark door. Another group, invisible to her eye, was pushing back with full force from the inside. After just two hours, they had reduced the defenses of the city to retreat. They were fortunate.

The adrenaline in her veins was beginning to die down and she grew exhausted. Waiting around for another burst of fighting was the worst part of a battle.

Arya came up next to her. "They will break through in time," the elf said, sensing her impatience.

"I just wish it could go quicker," Nasuada lamented. _I wish Dathedr could be here—he always has something smart to say about battle strategies. He'd probably say something like 'just use all your advantages, Nasuada!'_

She looked at the men fighting at the door. "Can't we use magic to open it?" she asked.

"The spells on that door have been examined. Apparently this Tabor character is very superstitious. There are strong spells guarding against magical attack. We could combine our energy and open it, but that would be a waste when our men will obviously break through without such measures."

 _So much for our advantages,_ Nasuada thought dismally. _I hate waiting around like this._ She fingered her sword anxiously. _What other advantages do we have? We have Riders… but I can't do much. Wait…!_ An idea came to her and she looked to the skies, reaching for Saphira's consciousness.

The dragon paid close attention to her proposal and agreed. With a showy swoop, she alighted in front of the gates.

Soldiers of the Varden scattered as Saphira burst through the doors and breathed a mighty breath of fire over the soldiers behind it.

Nasuada and the others poured in through the arched doorway, meeting the guards head-on. She thrust her sword into one soldier without a fight and clashed blades with another. She lifted her leg and thrust her boot into his chest, swinging wildly at his head.

He blocked her weakly, clutching at his stomach with his left arm. Before he knew it, she had thrust her sword into his heart.

The next soldier lasted a bit longer, but he soon fell under her blade. As his body sank to the floor, she spun around, ready for the next attacker, but there was none. Members of the Varden were rushing here and there, taking prisoners and searching every room for more guards.

Saphira was still in the entry room, crouching low to keep her scales from rubbing the ceiling, but Eragon was nowhere to be seen.

With everyone inside the castle and the sky still grey, no one was witness to the ruby colored dragon land just outside the city.

Nasuada glanced back and saw Eragon and Vanir leading a bearded man across the room. He fought their grasp fiercely, but to no avail.

Eragon caught her eye and explained mentally, _Tabor, the owner of this lovely home._

She grinned. They had won.


	29. Encounter

Chapter 29

"Lady Nasuada, we are victorious!" a soldier shouted, smiling from ear to ear.

Nasuada nodded respectfully to the soldier. "The war is not over yet." She turned away from the grueling battle scene, trying to ignore the stench of death. As with every battle, she did not rejoice in the shedding of blood, even if it was mostly that of the enemy.

Groups searched the palace, reporting it safe after only an hour.

"I suppose we will stay here," Jormundor said. "I have set up a new patrol around the city, and a justice system will be established in place of the old one. Citizens are not to be inconvenienced, but for safety purposes, no one is allowed to leave the city."

Eragon and Saphira set to work burying the bodies on the northern side of the city. Barzul joined them eagerly, though he did not realize when committing himself to the task that it would dirty his scales.

Nasuada found an empty room in the palace and washed up, shedding her bloody armor and putting on a simple dress. Just in case, she strapped a sword to her belt and covered it in the folds of her dress.

 _Well, I suppose there's no chance of sleeping,_ she thought. The sky was already bright with the morning rays. _Besides, there are other things to be done._

She made her way down a wide corridor and into Jormundor's temporary office. He was bent over a pile of legal papers.

"Congratulations, Jormundor," she said.

He looked up. "What? Oh, for the victory? Thank you. I'm just studying these scraps of paper. It seems that the previous ruler of Dras Leona hardly did a thing besides torture rebels and put more spells around his fortress. Too bad they didn't work." He crumpled up one of the papers and tossed it over his shoulder.

She laughed. "Is there anything I can do—besides dispose of the bodies?"

He nodded. "There is always something. Tabor's most trusted general has a room on the top floor. That one needs searched for any important information."

"I could do that. Will you direct me?" Nasuada was glad for a simple paperwork mission. That she could handle, even after a battle.

With explicit directions to the office, she set out. Up three flights of stairs she went and down a dark hall. At long last, she paused outside the double doors. _This is it,_ she thought, pushing it open.

The door opened with a creak and Nasuada slipped through. The room inside was a typical study with a heavy desk in the center. She strode to the desk and set her lamp on it, going around to access the drawers. The moment her fingers touched the handle, she knew something was not right. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered.

Out of the shadows stepped Murtagh. In the dim light, the hollows in his face stood out, casting a ghastly aura about him. Bags were under his eyes and it looked like he had not shaved his face in a week.

Terror gripped her very soul. Once, she had looked forward to their time together. She had mourned his "death" with as much sorrow as her father's. Now, the very thought of him made her tremble with pity and fear. "What are you here for?" she demanded in a voice that sounded much braver than she felt.

"You know why I am here," he replied, not moving.

 _Um… no I don't,_ she thought, searching her mind for something to say—something to put off whatever he had come for. "I know who has sent you," she said, standing to her full height. _His loyalty lies with the King, Nasuada,_ she told herself, _like it or not, he cannot be trusted._

He stepped forward, reaching softly for her.

Nasuada stepped back abruptly, biting her lip. Was he there for her? _No, that's impossible,_ she reasoned. _He's been sent to kill us all, just like his 'almighty' master told him, I wager._

"Why do you always put yourself last?" he whispered, pain showing in his eyes.

"Because I have a conscience," _unlike you,_ she finished silently. "You are here to kill me, aren't you?"

He laughed, a mad gleam showing through his eyes. "No. I am here for the egg. Where is it?"

 _Barzul,_ She thought frantically, trying not to appear too terrified. "You will not find it here, Murtagh," she said, her voice nearly cracking. Well, she wasn't lying. No matter how hard Murtagh searched, he would never find one dragon egg in the whole city.

"Then I shall search elsewhere. If you try and stop me, I cannot hesitate to kill you." Murtagh stepped forward and rested his calloused hand against her cheek tenderly.

She tremored, lifting her left hand to brush his aside. It was cruel of him to play with her emotions like that when they could not be together.

He grabbed her hand and froze, staring with growing terror at the gedwey ignasia.

She pulled it away, cursing herself a thousand times over for being so stupid.

"I see how it is," he said sorrowfully, "now I should kill you, Nasuada."

"There is nothing I can do to stop you," she said, trembling slightly. "Do it."

He drew his sword and lunged at her. Nasuada leaped aside and pulled her own sword from the folds of her dress. "Murtagh, you have become a tool. When was the last time you did anything by your own command?" The loathing disgust in her voice was real. A flood of overwhelming anger filled her veins. _He has betrayed everything I stand for,_ she thought bitterly as their swords clashed in mid-air. "Are you nothing more than his puppet?" She asked, pushing his sword away in fury.

A gleam of anger came into Murtagh's eyes and he thrust his sword right for her heart.

Nasuada evaded the blow, ducking aside and jabbing for his stomach.

"You know nothing," he spat, their swords meeting in an X once more. He swung hard, and this time the force jolted her very bones.

Nasuada tried to stand strong and block his next blow, but it knocked the blade clear out of her hands. She was weaponless.

A lump rose in her throat. _So this is how it ends,_ she thought. _I always hoped for a heroic death, but no. I die at the blade of a traitor, one who I once loved._ "Do it quickly," she requested in a whisper, backing up until she was against the stone wall. Despite the situation, she held her chin high. Better not to die a coward.

Murtagh came close, so close their bodies nearly touched. He whispered quietly into her ear, "He would want me to kill you, or perhaps capture you, but that was not in my mission statement. I am to find two dragon eggs and return them. It would not be a lie to say one wasn't here."

She caught her breath. Maybe he would spare her as he had spared Eragon. Perhaps, just perhaps, he still had a conscience.

He lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

Nasuada stiffened with surprise, but she was unable to pull away. Despite the situation, her emotions took hold. Even after everything, she still cared for Murtagh. His touch was so soft, and his kiss so tender. She returned the gesture equally, resting her hands hesitantly on his shoulders.

Murtagh let his sword clatter to the floor so he could wrap both arms around her waist.

Nasuada knew that, since he was unarmed, it was the best time to defend herself, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except herself, Murtagh, and the passion in their kiss. She felt her body being pressed against the wall, and she let her hands migrate up and around his neck.

 _Nasuada?_ It was Barzul's voice. _What is happening, Nasuada?_

Immediately, Nasuada was brought back to reality. _It's nothing, Barzul. I'll explain in a few moments._ She pushed Murtagh away and looked at his boots, wondering what had come over her. "Murtagh… I don't… We can't…"

He scoffed, retrieving his sword from the stone floor and sheathing it. "I should have known, Nasuada. You can never forget your duty to the Varden. You never think about what's best for _you_."

"Oh, and being with you is best thing for me, is it?" she demanded, her voice quivering.

"If a few moments without thinking of our obligations means being together, then yes! You can never enjoy the simple pleasures of life without your duties interfering!"

"Is that all I am to you?" she said, gazing into his dark eyes with disdain, "'A few moments away from reality?' 'The simple pleasures of life?'"

"I cannot deny it," he said evenly.

She choked back a sob, continuing, "I put the needs of others before my own. Before I act, I think of the consequences. Yes, my duties are always foremost in my mind. Maybe it isn't such a bad thing when they interfere with my selfish desires."

He studied her face, expressionless, and then picked her sword up off the floor. "Since you speak so highly of performing duties, I shall get back to my own. Where is Saphira's egg?"

"It is not here," she said proudly. Deciding to deceive him as to the level of her training, she added, "I can swear by it if you'd tell me the words in the ancient language."

He laughed. "So you haven't learned enough to make a simple oath. My master will change that if he ever gets hold of you. Do not bother swearing; I believe you. Since none of my duties can be performed, I will leave. You shall stay in here until I am long gone, is that clear?" At her nod, he continued. "Good day, Lady Nasuada. The next time we meet, my mission will undoubtedly be to capture or kill you. And, after all, my duties come first." He bowed elaborately and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 _Saphira!_ Barzul cried, landing next to the larger dragon.

 _What is it?_ She asked.

Eragon looked curiously at the silver dragon, listening to their conversation through his link with Saphira.

 _I don't know… Nasuada didn't tell me, but there was something odd coming from her… something I've never felt before. And then she was angry and very hurt… She hasn't explained anything._ Barzul's eyes were wide with worry and he wouldn't stay still.

 _What kind of feeling?_ Saphira asked, growing nervous.

 _It was an intense desire—like something I've never felt._ Barzul looked away briefly. _But it left awfully quick when I contacted her. Then she was angry, but not at me._

 _Well, did it—_

 _WAIT! She's talking to me!_ Barzul paused, and so did Saphira and Eragon. _Murtagh was in the castle. He's leaving now._

Before Barzul had finished his sentence, Saphira was in the air, flying for the city with all her might.

Eragon gripped the saddle tightly, urging her to go faster. If Murtagh was in the castle, half of their army could already be dead.

As the city came into view, they saw a ruby colored dragon emerge from the thicket and swoop over the palace, landing briefly to pick up a passenger from the highest tower and then flying away.

Saphira surged forward, flying faster than ever. _Shall I follow them, Eragon?_

 _No. We must see if everyone is safe._


	30. A Legacy Reborn

**Chapter 30**

Eragon burst through the tall doors and into the palace, expecting the worst. What he saw surprised him more than anything.

Soldiers milled about, conversing with one another and patrolling the corridors.

Confused, Eragon pulled the nearest soldier aside, saying, "Is everyone all right? What is the plan of action?"

The soldier, equally confused, replied, "Well, we suffered a few losses in the battle, but for now, we're just waiting for the Empire's army…"

"You mean to say that the red dragon did no damage? No one noticed him?"

Before the soldier could answer, a peasant burst through the same door Eragon had come through, shouting, "DRAGON! NOTIFY LORD JORMUNDOR AT ONCE!"

Everyone sprung into action at once. A whole group of soldiers interrogated the peasant for the whole story while another went to fetch Jormundor.

"It just landed on the palace," Eragon heard the woman say, "and flew away!"

 _What sort of lax security plan do we have?_ He thought desperately, turning from the scene and darting up the nearest flight of stairs.

At the top, he met Jormundor.

"Eragon! Have you heard?" Jormundor asked.

"Where is Nasuada?" Eragon said, not bothering to answer the question.

"Nasuada? Oh, top floor. But Murtagh was here, Eragon, I need you on patrol in case he…" Jormundor's voice faded away as Eragon sprinted down the hall and began climbing yet another staircase.

On the top floor, there was no doubt which room Nasuada was in. It was the only set of double doors in that hall.

Eragon pushed through the entrance. Seeing the room in person, he wondered why he had ever thought it was Jormundor's office. There was a desk in the center, as always, but all similarities ended there. It was a much larger room with far simpler furnishings.

"Nasuada?" he called softly, walking around the desk.

She sat curled in a ball, leaning against the stone wall behind the desk.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling by her side.

Lifting her head, she sniffed. Tears streaked her face. "You knew before it happened," she said shakily. "Why did you not tell me?"

"What happened?" he asked. "I mean, I saw the beginning right up 'til… until you kissed." He looked away, embarrassed.

"He just left, alright?" she said abruptly, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have something better to do?"

Eragon felt a wave of guilt overwhelm him as he realized how embarrassing the situation was for Nasuada. Whatever had happened between her and Murtagh, she was better off coping alone. "I'm sorry. I… I guess I'll go." He dropped his head, feeling rather foolish. "Jormundor wants me on patrol anyway, just in case Murtagh shows up again."

"He's not coming back," she whispered, choking over the words.

He stepped out of the room, leaving Nasuada to her privacy.

 _I'm proud of you, little one,_ Saphira commented.

 _What for?_

 _For making the decision to leave her alone—and without my assistance._

Dathedr gently knocked on the door to Islanzadi's quarters. Her message urged him to arrive, for it was "a matter of most importance." The urgent invitation made him fear the worst.

The door was immediately opened from the inside. "Dathedr-vor," Islanzadi said, pulling him inside, "I have had a vision."

"What is it?" he asked, becoming anxious. The Queen had not had a premonition of any sort in many years, and he wondered if it brought good news or bad.

"It was as if I could see the whole story—how Galbatorix rose to power, finishing off the unloyal Riders one by one until only the forsworn were left. Then the forsworn died out, and the three eggs became our last hope… until Saphira gave us the gift of a fourth." She nodded toward her table where the emerald egg sat.

"What then?" Dathedr asked, intrigued.

"I saw the face of each and every elf that we presented to the egg. Of course, there were many—practically everyone in Du Weldenvarden. But none of them were quite right. And then… then I saw the destined Rider."

He waited for her to tell him the name, thinking it unwise to pry the Queen for more information.

"I have seen the the battle. Very soon, the Empire shall invade Dras Leona and the Varden will be nearly depleted. Only one thing can change this fate…" her voice trailed off.

"Islanzadi Drottning?"

She looked up, as if brought out of a daze. "The egg must reach its destined Rider. Immediately."

He blinked. Such a thing was practically impossible. "Well… I could gather the strongest of the strong from each city in Du Weldenvarden and they can combine their strengths…"

"No, no. The strongest of the strong are in Dras Leona already. Besides, it will take too long to round up that many elves. It must be done now." Islanzadi sounded quite firm.

"What do you propose then?" he asked.

"I propose that you take over leadership until an heir steps up or another royal is appointed." She strode to the table and took the egg in her arms.

"Wait… No, Islanzadi!" he cried, "Do not transport it yourself; that's suicide!"

"Nothing you say can dissuade me," the elf said decidedly, "Just carry out the orders I have listed on that scroll." She pointed to a scroll lying on the opposite side of the table. "Farewell, friend." With that, she spoke a spell in the ancient language.

Light emanated from the egg so brightly that, for a moment, Dathedr could not see. When it finally cleared, the egg was gone and Islanzadi's form lay still and pale on the floor.


	31. A Gift Delivered

**Chapter 31**

The elven camp, situated just outside the city walls of Dras Leona, was disrupted from its usual calm that night.

When it happened, Arya was in the center of the camp, explaining the scouting route to a group of lookouts. There was a distinct _crack_ and a blinding flash of light just outside the camp.

Instantly, everyone stood in a defensive stance. Arya opened her mind and reached for magic, ready for anything.

"What was that?" an elf whispered.

"I don't know, but I feel a presence coming from that side of the wood…" another warrior said, creeping forward.

Elves from the closer side of the camp were already approaching the thicket uneasily, preparing for attack.

Arya sped along the row of tents, eyes never leaving the place between the trees where the flash had occurred. She pushed through the crowd and stared down at the charred earth, her keen eyesight picking up every detail despite the darkness.

A six-pace radius of burnt ground surrounded the emerald green dragon egg. Smoke rose from the circle, making her eyes water.

She trembled slightly. There was no question about where the egg had come from, but why had it been sent there? What on earth could possess anyone to send it into Dras Leona, a city that would soon be under attack? _And,_ Arya thought, realizing the full extent of the situation, _who is powerful enough to send it this far? This is madness!_ But there was no point in gaping at the egg. She stepped forward and scooped it up into her arms, addressing the crowd of elves. "A gift from Ellesmera. Back to your duties; I will inform Jormundor about this."

 _Was it Mother who sent it?_ She pondered. _Was the egg no longer safe in Ellesmera?_ A dozen images of destruction flew before her eyes. _No. That cannot be._

She approached the city gates, tucking the egg under her cloak as not to draw too much attention. The guards let her in without a word.

"Arya," Jormundor said, rising from his seat behind the desk. Bags had settled beneath his eyes and his beard was untrimmed.

Arya had not expected him to be awake at that hour. "Jormundor, the queen has sent us something." She brought out the egg, still clutching it protectively.

He gaped at the shimmering green object, stammering, "Wha… how'd you… Saphira bore an egg while they were in Ellesmera? Why was I not informed? And why was it not brought to Surda?"

She clenched her teeth. "Eragon Shadeslayer is not your property, and neither is Saphira. This egg, by right, belongs to Saphira and Eragon. They chose to let the elves hold it. It was their hope that the egg would hatch for an elven Rider. Why it was sent to us I know not, but I thought you ought to be informed that it was here. With Eragon's permission, I will keep it in the elven camp for protection. To be quite honest, that's the safest place for it."

Jormundor pried his eyes from the egg and looked coldly at her. He didn't like her taking control of the situation. Even more, he hated the fact that she was absolutely right. "Go to Eragon then. I'm sure he will take your counsel."

"I know he will," she said, turning away and tucking the egg once more beneath her cloak.

She found Eragon and Saphira in the entrance hall, getting ready to sleep. "Eragon!" she called, running forward.

He turned around to gaze at her through drooping eyelids. "Hmm?" Apparently, he had been up all night. Sleep was hard to come by with the Empire so close.

"I don't know what's happened, but Islanzadi has sent the egg."

His eyes widened instantly. "Why? Is Ellesmera in danger?"

"No… I don't think so. All of Galbatorix's forces are headed this way. Ellesmera is surely safe. I don't know why it was sent, but it is here… I have thought of sending it back, but it would require so much strength that all of the elven warriors would have to participate. It would weaken us tremendously. Islanzadi must want us to have it badly."

Saphira snorted, creeping closer to nudge the egg with her nose. _You must keep the egg with the Elves, Arya Drottningu. It is the only safe place._

"Thank you, Saphira." Arya bowed her head. "We will guard it with our lives."

 _Please don't call her an "it,"_ Saphira said. Her tone was not angry, but it contained a hint of irritation.

Again, Arya bowed her head. The egg, she sensed, was female.

Eragon shifted awkwardly. "Well, Saphira's right. We'd be honored if her daughter can be under your protection. I will be too large a target to worry about the egg when the Empire attacks."

Arya sighed inwardly. She had worried for a moment that Eragon would insist the egg stay with Saphira. "We will be pleased to carry it, Shadeslayer. I will find a way for it to be exposed to as many people as possible in the next few days. Perhaps we'll get lucky." She turned and left.

In her tent, she waited anxiously for sunrise. At that time, she and the Queen were scheduled to scry each other for the purpose of information exchange. But when Arya spoke the words "draumr kopa" and concentrated on the memory of her mother's face, all she saw was darkness.

Frantic, Arya tried the spell once more, staring into the bowl of water.

Again, nothing happened.

She spoke the words again, this time concentrating on the image of her mother's bedroom.

This time, an image did appear in the water. The room was as she always remembered it. A table stood at one end and a four-post bed of woven vines on the other. Islanzadi's still form lay on the bed as if she was sleeping, but Arya knew better than to believe that.

At the table sat Dathedr, staring into a scrying bowl of his own. "Arya Drottningu," he whispered.

Arya could see herself in the scrying bowl. He was taking Islanzadi's duty. "What has happened, Dathedr-elda?"

"She attempted to send the dragon egg to Dras Leona. I do not know if she succeeded, but the spell drained the life out of her."

"That's impossible," Arya said, shaking her head in disbelief. "My mother knew her limitations, she would never…"

"She did know her limits, that's why she left a message for me. I am to keep things together in Ellesmera while you are gone. She also wrote that she was proud of you."

Arya tightened her hold on the bowl to keep from trembling. "But why did she do it? Why send it where the danger is?"

"Before your mother died, she had a premonition of who the Rider was. Apparently, the Rider is in Dras Leona. You must find that person. She said it was our only hope." Dathedr hung his head, rubbing his temples. "Our queen knew what she was doing…" He said the words more to assure himself, it appeared.

Arya sat back in her seat and let out a long-held breath. "Well, the Empire is only a few days' travel from here. I have a lot of work to do."

Through the next days, every elf in the company had touched the egg. Its shell remained just as silent as ever. Though she knew that meant nothing because Saphira had waited days and days before hatching for Eragon, Arya moved on to the citizens of Dras Leona. It was set in the palace with tight security while peasants came in, one by one, to touch the egg.

Eventually, she admitted to herself that she was spending far too much time occupied with the egg. After all, she was supposed to be a leader for the elves, not the egg-keeper, as she had once been in the days before Saphira's hatching.

Vanir and twelve others were put in charge of protecting the egg while she prepared for battle. Every detail had to be planned out meticulously. Elves were each assigned to a certain group of soldiers and expected to protect those men. More volunteers arose from the city, young and old alike. The army was growing, as Jormundor had hoped, but not nearly enough to face the enormity of the Empire.


	32. Turning Point

**Chapter 32**

"The Empire approaches!" the scout cried, bursting through the doors of Jormundor's office. "It is a miracle they did not see me."

Eragon was not surprised. Saphira had smelled their progress long before the scouts were sent out.

"How far away are they?" Jormundor asked. It was the news they had all been waiting for.

"It took me an entire day to get back… they ought to be only leagues away by now. There were so many—I can't imagine them traveling too fast, but they will be here in one day; two at the most."

 _Ask him if he saw the dragon._ Saphira's words echoed in Eragon's mind.

"Did you see a dragon?" Eragon asked.

The scout shook his head. "No. I didn't stick around long enough to see the whole company. As it was, I was nearly discovered. Have any of the other scouts returned?"

Eragon glanced at Jormundor, who shook his head sorrowfully.

"No, the others have not arrived." The great leader shuffled a few papers around on his desk.

 _He isn't good at hiding information,_ Eragon thought to Saphira. _He knows full well that one of the scouts' horses returned without a rider this morning. Blood was streaked down its neck and the animal was terrified out of its wits._

Saphira nudged his consciousness. _Now isn't the time to tell the poor scout of his comrade's fate._

 _I know, I was just saying Jormundor isn't good at hiding it._ Eragon directed his attention to the present. Jormundor was arranging for the scout to be well paid for his valuable message.

"The time has come," the leader said, turning to Eragon. "Please fly Saphira around the city a few times—ask Nasuada to have Barzul do the same; the people need hope more than ever right now. You won't be bothered with the tedious preparations, just worry about preparing yourself and Saphira. And get some rest; I know that's been hard to come by in the last few days."

Eragon bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, My Lord. And, if I may say so, you would do nicely to take your own advice and rest."

Jormundor smiled grimly. "The Varden's needs come first."

"In that case, we are all in good hands," Eragon said, turning to leave. In the instant before he closed the door, he saw the pleased, yet startled expression on Jormundor's face.

Eragon found Nasuada and Barzul outside the city, walking in the thicket. Though Barzul was now allowed to be seen in the city, they hardly ever appeared in public. Eragon understood the longing for solitude; crowds of people followed him and Saphira everywhere in Dras Leona.

"Kvetha, fricai," he said awkwardly. It was the first time they had spoken since Murtagh left the city. Nasuada had managed to obtain duties away from him without making it obvious she was avoiding him.

She smiled faintly at him. "How are you and Saphira?"

"Well, we're doing well," he answered distractedly. For a moment, he forgot what he had come for. "Oh… Jormundor wants the dragons to fly around the city as a sort of inspiration to the people. We are preparing for the battle."

"How far is he?" she asked, the smile leaving her face. Beside her, Barzul nudged her arm comfortingly.

"Erm…" He shifted at her use of _he_ instead of _The Empire,_ or just plain _them._ It was obvious she meant _Murtagh._ "They'll be here in a day or two, roughly. Jormundor is going to be busy with preparations, but he's requested we get some rest in before the big day."

Her lips formed a thin line. "I don't know why he thinks he can just order us around like that. It wasn't long ago and _he_ was under _my_ command."

Eragon studied her face. "Jormundor is good for the Varden, Nasuada. You know that. I know it's hard to take his orders, but it's probably the best move right now.

Nasuada's eyes flickered with irritation briefly before she sighed. "I'm letting my pride get the best of me, I'm afraid. It is hard having no control now, whereas I had the whole Varden at my command a few months ago."

"Much has changed," he said, gazing at her.

She lifted her head to observe the sky through thick tree branches. "Much _has_ changed. We are already faced with the battle that will decide the fate of Alagaesia; the battle that my father and countless others worked so reverently for. I hope I do not let them down."

"You won't, Nasuada. Once you set your mind on a task, there's no stopping you from completing it."

For the first time in a long while, she smiled. "That's a nice way of putting it. 'Stubborn beyond all reason,' I believe, is how my father put it into words." Looking down, she sighed. "I wish he could be here; wish he could see what we've done—what I've become… I want to make him proud."

Eragon was sad to see her smile disappear. He longed to make her laugh. "I would wish that Garrow could see what I've done; but even if he could come back, he would promptly die of shock upon seeing a real live dragon."

Nasuada rolled her eyes, a grin slowly creeping into her expression. "You should fly around the city like Jormundor said; Barzul too."

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, nodding towards Saphira's saddle.

She hesitated, looking down for a moment.

"Come on, Nasuada. The sky awaits us." He took her hand and pulled gently.

A smile spread across her face as she gazed up at Saphira. "I could use a little fresh air…"

Eragon climbed into the saddle and offered her a hand up, which she took, pulling herself into the usual place right behind him.

With both of them strapped in, Saphira leapt into the air, Barzul close behind. The air rushed to meet them.

Being airborn was to feel complete freedom. Who better to share it with than Nasuada?

For hours they flew, doing circles around the city and performing showy dives just for fun. Surprisingly, Barzul kept up rather well, doing just as impressive tricks. Soon, it was more like a playful competition between him and Saphira. Each had to outdo the other's moves.

Eragon didn't feel like the biggest battle in history was just hours away. In fact, he hardly thought past the fact that the breeze was in his face and Nasuada's arms were around his stomach.

Elva watched the King behind cold green eyes, studying his every move. His change in mood lately only proved that he thought everyone was under his thumb, even her.

Galbatorix strode to the mirror and spoke a few words under his breath. Immediately, shadows began to form in the mirror and an image appeared. It was Murtagh.

"Do you have it?" The King demanded.

Murtagh twitched a little and then looked straight at Galbatorix through the mirror.

 _An odd way of scrying,_ thought Elva, observing the conversation.

"No, Master," Murtagh said, holding his chin high. "There is no egg in the city. I am sure of it."

Muscles along the King's neck twitched, but he did not lose control. "You are quite certain?"

Murtagh nodded.

"Swear it, you idiot."

Elva could not understand the words Murtagh spoke, but sensed the power they held. Also, she detected a hint of deception in his demeanor. Murtagh wanted nothing more than to be free of authority—to be his own boss. Perhaps hiding things from his master was a way of regaining a bit of freedom.

Either way, she immediately decided _not_ to inform Galbatorix of his deception. The tyrant was becoming far too comfortable with her allegiance, and she would not let him control her every move—as Murtagh had allowed.

"THEN WHERE ARE THE EGGS?" Galbatorix shouted, grabbing the nearest oil lamp and throwing it against the wall.

"I do not know."

"Well then," he said quietly, straightening up. "I suppose I should have known you would fail. After the Burning Plains incident, where you failed to carry out the most simple of tasks, I can hardly expect you to find a couple of eggs."

Murtagh's face remained expressionless while the King carried on.

"For your next mission, Slave, I will send another—just to keep an eye on you. Take the Shade and ride Thorn to Helgrind while no one's watching. There, you will find a liberal supply of Seithr Oil. It might come in handy during the battle."

A flicker of fury crossed the young man's face. "The Shade? Riding on Thorn?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?" Galbatorix's eyes dared Murtagh to complain.

Murtagh appeared to get a hold of his temper. "No; I just don't think Thorn, a mighty dragon, would allow a filthy half-dead on his back. It would be completely dishonoring."

"May I remind you that, without me, you have no honor?" The King was so close to the glass that his greasy nose nearly touched Murtagh's image.

Murtagh lowered his eyes.

Elva felt his deepest desires: to escape, preferably after taking his revenge out on the King and every member of the Varden who had wronged him. In his mind, the Varden was as much to blame for his predicament as Galbatorix. He hated everyone and everything except Thorn.

Galbatorix released the spell and the image disappeared, leaving only his reflection in the mirror. "Elva," he said, striding to the table and studying a plan of his fortress. For days he had been gazing at it, examining every detail.

"Yes?" She stepped forward and out of the shadows.

He smiled, but it came out looking more like a grimace. The muscles on his face were not accustomed to performing smiles. "How did the enemy Rider's rescue party reach the egg chamber?"

She blinked. "They walked, using no magic as to go undetected. I thought we covered this after the incident."

His grimace grew wider and somehow more sinister. "Yes, but the trail of slain guards only goes to here, a floor below their destination."

She shrugged. "Perhaps they managed to sneak by the other guards."

He turned back to the map. "Perhaps. Odd, don't you think, that they appeared to stop their bloodbath right below Eragon's cell?"

"Very." Elva decidedly showed no emotion.

"They stole what may have been my most prized possession…" he paused to reconsider. "No—my second most prized possession." The King's eyes darted across the map and his mind appeared to wander.

Elva knew her welcome in the castle was wearing out. Galbatorix knew; she could feel it in her very bones. The only reason he kept her alive was because he thought she could be of further use before dying.

He stood up straight, seeming to remember something. "Elva, what is it Murtagh wants most?"

She sensed the answer he desired and said it. "Murtagh wants to appease his Master, for he knows what happens when he doesn't."

Galbatorix nodded in satisfaction. "You're useful to have around."

A sick feeling went to Elva's stomach. She had become his pet.


	33. Prolonged Suffering

**Chapter 33**

Murtagh waited until the two dragons landed for the night, then called Thorn. _We leave immediately. With the Shade._

The ruby colored dragon growled, spitting little tongues of flame out his nostrils.

 _I don't like it either, but we cannot risk defying our Master again._

Thorn tossed his head. _And whose idea was it to disobey him on the Burning Plains? What about the incident with Nasuada?_

 _Come on, Thorn,_ Murtagh rolled his eyes. _Galbatorix should have been more specific in his directions; I merely took advantage of the loophole in his judgment._

His dragon puffed a cloud of smoke. _You have repeatedly tried to get out of service for the sake of feeling free, but you fail to realize that the fastest road to freedom lies in obeying our King._

After a pause, Murtagh replied. _You're right. If I continue to get under our Master's skin, it will just prolong our suffering. Forgive me for making such decisions without your input. After all, we should work as one._

 _As one._ Thorn nudged his Rider. _When the war is over, we will be free—or, at least, as free as we can expect under such circumstances. Without the Varden to destroy, Galbatorix can not torture us any longer._

The thought made Murtagh smile. No more orders. No more oaths or punishment. Just him, Thorn, and the open skies.

"Ready to leave?" asked a voice behind him.

Murtagh whirled around, unsheathing his sword in a second.

"Relax; it's me," Goroth said, giving a sinister smile.

"Somehow that doesn't reassure me at all," he spat, not lowering his sword.

The Shade's grin only grew wider. She walked slowly and deliberately to him, burgundy eyes glistening with mystery.

He froze, not daring to move an inch.

She leaned in to whisper into his ear, so close he could feel her warm breath on his neck. " _You do not trust my kind, Murtagh?_ "

"Not particularly," he said with disgust.

"' _Tis a shame; we could have had a good time, you and I._ " Goroth walked past him to stand before Thorn.

Murtagh cursed her under his breath, sheathing his sword.

"So…" Goroth said, looking the red dragon up and down, "this is our transportation to Helgrind." She dared speak with her mind, _You aren't much to look at._

Thorn kneaded the ground with his claws. _You are bold, connecting with another person's dragon. It is bolder yet to insult a dragon._

The Shade shrugged, a smug smile on her face. _I am too powerful to worry about offending a man with a shining palm and his flying lizard._

Murtagh's hands formed fists so tight his knuckles began to lose their color. A muscle along his jaw rippled. "I am more powerful than you think, Scum."

Goroth appeared amused at his defensive stance. "Oh?"

"Galbatorix has given me his secrets—I am more powerful than anything you've encountered."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, but it left so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it. "I do not doubt the power of my King, little Rider, but you only have power because he has lent it to you. Your expediency would soon run out if you abused this gift by killing me."

He glowered at her, hand on the hilt of Zar'roc.

 _Murtagh, do not start anything,_ Thorn warned. _Let's just go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return and be rid of this vile spirit._

The Rider reluctantly agreed, climbing into the saddle.

Goroth looked up at him, grinning widely. "Aren't you going to offer to help me up?" She laughed, pulling herself up behind him.

Thorn leapt from the forest floor, beating his mighty wings against the air and emerging above the treetops.

The sun's golden rays peeked over the treetops, making Eragon's eyes water. He did not move from his place on the roof of the palace, leaning against Saphira's cool scales for stability.

 _They are close, Eragon,_ She said, _can you see them?_

His eyes scanned the horizon. Smoke rose in the distance where the Empire's camp was located.

Saphira laid her head down on the shingles of the roof. _Tonight, they camp outside the walls; tomorrow, they attack._

 _It is truly the end, isn't it?_ He asked, looking right, where the shores of Leona Lake stared back at him.

 _Whether we win or not, this will be the end of one thing or another,_ Saphira said.

 _Best enjoy the last minutes of leisure, Saphira. Why don't you swim in the lake?_

She nudged him. _Why don't Why don't YOU?_

He shrugged. _I don't know. With the battle approaching, I just need time to think._

A hint of understanding came from Saphira. _You know you will fight Murtagh, your own brother, tomorrow. Is that what's bothering you?_

 _I cannot deny it._

 _You will fight hundreds, even thousands, more. Their lives are just as valuable as Murtagh's, though maybe not in your eyes._

Eragon looked down in shame. _I know… but it's hard to know that I will either kill him or be captured by him. Maybe there's a way out of it—maybe I can talk to Arya and see if…_

 _Give it up, Eragon. We proposed these things to him on the Burning Plains. He has chosen his path._

He knew she spoke wisely, but it didn't help his state. No matter the outcome of the battle, he would be sorry about one thing or another.

 _Well, back to the point, I am not going to swim in Leona Lake alone. How boring!_ Saphira puffed a cloud of smoke.

 _Ask Barzul to come. You two could hunt fish together,_ Eragon urged.

At that thought, Saphira brightened a little. _That might work. He really shows potential in the area of hunting—if only he could get his scales dirty every once in a while!_

He laughed. _Go then. Have fun!_

 _I will,_ she said, creeping to the edge of the roof and gliding out of sight.

With Saphira gone, Eragon didn't quite know what to do. He was overwhelmed by the fact that there was nothing to do. Jormundor had remained firm in his decision to let—more like force— Eragon and Nasuada to rest.

His mind wandered, leading him to the re-occuring thought that had played at the surface of his consciousness all morning. _Why did Islanzadi send us the egg?_

It wasn't the first time he had asked himself this question. In fact, he was so used to it, he had an answer ready. _She must have thought the Rider was in Dras Leona. But why? No one has even caused the slightest tremor in its shell. But, then again, I had Saphira's egg for quite a while before she hatched…_

He felt the overwhelming urge to see the egg—to be reassured it was safe. After all, it was Saphira's daughter confined inside the shell. His attachment to the egg was strong.

As the streets below began to fill with civilians going about their daily routine, Eragon climbed through one of the tower windows and walked to the floor level of the palace.

Soldiers along the way saluted him, mumbling "Argetlam," or "Shadeslayer."

He exited the castle and weaved through the crowded streets. The eighty soldiers at the main gate recognized him immediately and let him pass. It was only a few minutes before he arrived at the Elven camp.

A silver-haired maiden greeted him in the elven custom, touching fingers to her lips.

"Do you know where the egg is being held?" Eragon asked in the ancient language.

"At the center of the encampment, Eragon-elda," she said, pointing to the left.

"Thank you. May the stars watch over you." He strode to the center where elven warriors stood guard in a circle around a large tent.

The elves nearest the opening allowed his entrance without a word, pulling the flap aside for the Rider to enter.

Eragon ducked his head and entered the tent, only to hear the unsheathing of a blade and feel the cold metal of a sword against his neck.

"Why are you here?" Vanir asked, not pulling his sword away.

Eragon straightened cautiously, Vanir's sword moving up with him. "I am here to see that Saphira's egg is well. I mean no harm."

The elf scowled, lowering his weapon. Eragon noticed that he did not sheath it again. "You doubt my responsibility as the new egg keeper?"

"No. I have just been unsettled, having not seen the egg for a while."

Vanir stepped back. "If you must, I will show it to you." He kneeled by a sack in the center of the room and uncovered the emerald egg."

Eragon was reassured by its glimmering surface. He bent down and reached to touch the egg.

The elf allowed him to hold it, though he took a very protective stance over the object, almost as if every moment without it was causing him pain.

Eragon felt a faint presence inside the egg. Nothing could be told by the young dragon's consciousness except that it was female and she was waiting for something. He stroked the clear surface of the shell and wondered when it would hatch.

"Are you finished?" Vanir asked, hands twitching to hold the egg once more.

A feeling of foolishness crept into Eragon's mind. He had no reason to disbelieve Arya's reports of the egg's condition. Nonetheless, he was reassured by their visit; Vanir was not at all neglecting his duties as egg-keeper. Saphira's daughter remained in good hands.

Nasuada felt empty without Barzul at her side. Through their faint connection, she could tell he was having a good time, but that was little comfort. There was nothing worse than being idle while everyone else bustled around in frantic preparation for the battle.

She hung about Jormundor's office, listening to reports of the Empire's approach. They were close. The battle would arise before dawn.

For what seemed like a million times, she check-listed everything she would need for battle: Barzul's saddle, her light armor, the sword Islanzadi had given her, and a bow with extra arrows. All the equipment was set out, ready for use. The only thing left was to wait.

Nasuada hated waiting.

At last, she left the hustle-and-bustle of Jormundor's study and explored the castle; anything to keep her mind off of the nearing blood-bath. Down a spiral staircase she went, and through a damp tunnel.

 _This must be the dungeon,_ she remarked silently, noting a faint _drip, drip, drip,_ in the distance.

Lamps illuminated the hall at intervals, but they were dim.

Nasuada couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she froze, listening to the rhythmic dripping and trying to detect another intruder.

Something fuzzy rubbed up against her shins, vibrating subtly.

Nasuada leapt back, unsheathing a dagger and preparing to fight. But, when she recognized the creature before her, she put the blade away.

It was the cat she had often seen lingering about Angela, the herbalist. She had always thought it was strange; the way it stared at people unsettled even the hardest of warriors.

Not much to Nasuada's surprise, Angela emerged from an adjacent doorway, mumbling something unintelligible.

"Hello, Angela," she greeted, for once glad to see the herbalist.

"Wha… Oh, hello!" Angela beamed. "You haven't seen any toads down here—frogs, I mean."

"Erm… no. Why are you looking for frogs?"

The herbalist sighed. "Oh, it's just an old project of mine. 'Thought I'd investigate it further just because the subject intrigues me. Do you find yourself intrigued by the toad vs. frog argument as I am?"

Nasuada couldn't help but smile. "I must admit that I have never explored that subject."

"Oh." Angela looked quite pityingly at Nasuada. "'Tis a shame. But, then again, you have more responsibilities now, don't you?" She chuckled. "A Rider… Who would have guessed?"

"Actually, my duties are much lighter now that I am no longer making the decisions. It is a relief, really, not having to be responsible for the whole Varden."

"Ah yes, but it is frustrating watching someone else in command, no?" Angela inquired knowingly. "It is always hard to see another doing your job."

Nasuada raised her eyebrows. Angela had her pegged.

The woman shrugged, changing the subject quite abruptly. "I should like to find some frogs though. It would greatly help with my research. Would you help me, Nasuada?"

 _Why not?_ She asked herself. It was as good a way to pass the time as any. "I will."

"Great. We can talk along the way." Angela began to stroll down the dungeon hall like it was a park. "Have you ever scried a priest, Nasuada? They entertain themselves in the strangest of ways!"

The rest of the day was spent searching for toads—I mean frogs. The conversation was pleasant, though odd, and Nasuada felt herself slowly forgetting about war strategies and betrayal. Before she knew it, the sun was setting in the sky above and Barzul was reaching for her mind.

 _Nasuada, the Empire is here!_


	34. Breakout

**Chapter 34**

Nasuada joined Eragon in Jormundor's study. He was already wearing armor, Oromis's gold sword at his belt.

"Please sit down," Jormundor offered, standing politely as she entered.

She took his advice, sitting in a chair next to Eragon.

"As you know, the Empire is camped just outside the city. For convenience's sake, they have not yet attacked. Their men are tired from the day's journey and a night's rest is necessary." Jormundor rubbed his temples. "But, we know not when they will attack. The elves have deserted their camp and moved within the city walls for safety. Guards are taking shifts all around the city wall. I have tripled the number on the northern wall, for that's where the army is camping. They might attack at any time during the night just to surprise us."

Eragon shifted in his seat. "Are we to stay up all night, Sir?"

"That would be foolish. In fact, that's probably what they hope we will do. No, you two should get some rest. If so much as one arrow is fired, I will have you wakened."

Nasuada laughed inside, reaching for Eragon's mind. _Sweet dreams. I know I'm going to sleep GREAT knowing the Empire is up our—_

"Nasuada, is something amusing?" Jormundor asked, scowling.

"What? Oh, no. I was just…"

Eragon cut in. "It's just hard to think of sleeping at a time like this."

"Yes, well I trust you will find some way of resting properly? And your dragons must find sleep as well."

"They will," Nasuada assured him.

"Good." Jormundor looked rather relieved. "As for the strategy tomorrow, Arya informs me that you two will again be responsible for only yourselves. The elves and certain members of Du Vrangr Gata are taking care of defensive spells for the soldiers."

"I think we can handle that," Eragon said confidently.

"Then get some sleep. You have a long day ahead."

Barzul couldn't fit through her bedroom doorway anymore. He was just plain too big.

But Nasuada needed his comfort that night more than ever. She took a bedroll out into the hallway and lay next to her dragon. _How did we get here, Barzul?_

He rested his head on her stomach. _Well, you walked through the doorway and I trudged up the hall…_

 _Not 'how did we get in the hallway!'_ She smiled. _How did it come to this? It seems like just yesterday I was leading the Varden and carrying out my father's legacy… now look at me. And look at you!_

 _Now you're carrying out a different legacy,_ he said.

 _That's true,_ she admitted. _And I am glad. But can you really believe we're already hours away from the big event—the battle we've been preparing for all our lives?_

 _It does seem soon, Nasuada, but we are ready. We are a team._

She yawned. _I love you, Barzul Knurlar. Tomorrow, you shall live up to your name._

He snorted, laughing inwardly. _Barzul Knurlar… I thought it meant 'beautiful scales.'_

She laughed with him. _You have got to be the only dragon in history with a dwarvish name._

 _And the best!_ He chimed.

She smiled faintly before drifting off to sleep.

"Nasuada." The call was soft.

She stirred, not wanting to open her eyes.

"Wake up, Nasuada."

Why was someone trying to wake her? She had the faint feeling that something important was supposed to happen when she woke up, but she couldn't remember it.

"The battle has begun," the male voice said. "Barzul, can you do it?"

Nasuada sat up abruptly. "They're here? How long has it been? Have they breached the wall? How many are there?"

Eragon sat back on his heels, startled by her sudden outburst. "They opened fire only moments ago. There are many… too many."

She stood so quickly it made her dizzy. "I must prepare then. What time of day is it?"

"The sun will rise in a few hours," he said. "Put your armor on; we are needed."

Nasuada scrambled through the doorway into her bedroom and pulled on her chain mail. It was specially made by the dwarves, and very lightweight. In minutes, she returned to the hallway fully armed and carrying Barzul's saddle.

Eragon helped her secure the leather seat to Barzul's back and stood away, looking at the Rider and Dragon side-by-side. "You will do well. Let's go." He led them down the wide staircase and into the bustling main hall. Soldiers dashed here and there, all filled with the adrenaline of battle.

"You need not ride Barzul until they break through the wall—which they will undoubtedly do. Meanwhile, I will Ride Saphira over enemy troops, setting them afire." Eragon unsheathed his sword and swung it a few times to warm up his muscles.

"That's fine; I can help with the archers."

He whirled around, looking quite sternly at her. "Do not jest, Nasuada. I will not allow you anywhere near the city walls. It is raining arrows all over the place! Just sit back and wait for the archers to run out of arrows, then charge in with the other mounted soldiers. There are plenty of willing fighters to guard the wall."

She scowled, decidedly saying nothing.

"Stay safe," Eragon muttered briefly, laying a hand on her shoulder before darting through the enormous double-doors.

Nasuada turned away from the door, fuming inwardly. _He wants me to sit around twiddling my thumbs while HE fights, does he? We'll see about that._

Barzul followed her as she ran up the stairs at a brisk pace. _What are you planning?_

 _To help in any way possible,_ she said. _We are a Dragon and Rider; we can't just sit back and let everyone else do the fighting._

 _But Nasuada, you know how battles go better than I! Most of the time you're waiting for the chance to fight. Only the front-liners get to fight immediately…_ Barzul's voice faded in her mind as he realized what she intended to do. _But won't it drain your energy?_

 _Not much. And you'll help me, won't you?_

 _Of course!_ He snorted.

Saphira dipped down between the buildings and landed just long enough for Eragon to mount. _Did you put a protective spell around Barzul and Nasuada?_

 _Yes,_ he said. _Is the battle going any better since you last contacted me?_

 _No._

She rose above the city so he could see.

Torches were lit along the wall, illuminating the hundreds of limp forms that used to be living men. Arrows from outside rained in on the reinforcing archers so thick it was difficult to see. Beyond, a sea of lanterns and torches shed light upon the enemy. There were tens of thousands. Eragon could see their lighting through the trees; it seemed to stretch on forever.

A lump rose in his throat. _It is worse than I imagined. Saphira, what will we do?_

' _What will we do?' I'll show you!_ She sped over the city and to the northern wall, where the battle had begun. Dipping low, she spat a mighty flame at the soldiers closest to the wall. Arrows flew in all directions, three finding their way into the membrane of her right wing.

Eragon reacted on reflex, blocking the next sixteen arrows with magic. _Are you all right, Saphira?_

 _Yes. They don't affect me as much as they used to, though they sting terribly._ She roared at the Empire's men, dipping down to snatch one of the soldiers out of the crowd. He screamed, trying with all his might to escape her claws. She obliged him, tossing him back into the sea of men and casting fire over the invading army.

Next, she flew out of bow-range for a deep breath and dived back for another go.

Nasuada climbed out of a tower window and onto the roof of the palace. In the distance, she could see the battle progressing. The Empire's army had spread to encircle half of the city, and Dras Leona would soon be surrounded.

Barzul landed next to her, wide-eyed.

"Lend me your vision, will you?" she said, not bothering to say it with her mind.

Her dragon did as she asked, widening their connection until each could see through the eyes of the other. _Do it, Nasuada._

She strung her bow and fitted an arrow to it, muttering, "Gath sem oro un fricaya abr wyrdfell." It was the best thing she could think of right off the top of her head, but the spell worked. As she released the arrow, it soared straight for the attacking army, not faltering in the least until it disappeared in the crowd of soldiers.

 _Looks like it hit the spot,_ Barzul said.

Nasuada fitted another arrow. _This is much better than waiting around. And we're safe up here, too._

The next hours passed in a blur for Eragon. He and Saphira would swoop down on the enemy, sometimes landing to fight for a while, lighting fire when they could, and then flying back up. Several times, Saphira was forced to land inside the city so Eragon could heal their wounds. Their energy was dwindling slowly.

Eragon fought mentally with an enemy sorcerer, pushing hard against the man's defenses. Sweat dripped from his brow and his breath came in labored rasps. _This one is strong, Saphira,_ he said.

 _Yes, but he's only one._ She lent him her own energy and together, they broke the barriers and silenced the sorcerer.

Eragon spoke one of the words of death, destroying the group of soldiers the sorcerer had been protecting. He felt their consciousnesses go quiet in his mind.

Something in the thicket below caught his eyes: a flash of red. _Saphira…_ He didn't need to say it.

 _I saw,_ she said, veering towards it with unspoken consent.

 _There it is again!_ Eragon cried. _It's definitely Thorn._

Saphira circled the area widely and then dived suddenly, landing right on top of the Ruby colored dragon, catching him by surprise.

Thorn roared, reaching around to bite her neck.

Saphira evaded him, leaping into the air and daring him to follow. The sky was her domain.

With a mighty beat of his wings, the red dragon rose to face Saphira. For the first time, Eragon could properly see the enemy dragon. His muscles were strong, and he had grown since their last meeting. In fact, the dragon was almost the size of Saphira. But what surprised Eragon most was who sat in the saddle. Not one, but two people were strapped on the red dragon's back: Murtagh and a golden-haired maiden in full armor.

 _Who's the girl?_ Eragon wondered silently.

Saphira shuddered a little. _She is pure evil… I can feel it._

Thorn sped towards them, colliding with Saphira in mid air. The dragons clawed and bit at each other, falling rapidly in the sky.

Eragon drew his sword and leaned forward over saphira's neck, slashing at Thorn's face. Murtagh's blade met his and the two Riders glowered at one another over their dragons.

They were falling with greater speed now, approaching the ground quickly. At last, the two dragons released their hold and flew higher, spitting fire at one another as they went.

Saphira flew quickly away from the fiercest part of the battle, nearer to Helgrind, and turned to face Thorn. Again, the enemy dragon charged at her. This time, she dived at the last moment, ducking under his attack.

As they flew under Thorn's belly, Eragon held his sword up and slashed hard. He could not reach the red dragon's stomach, but managed to cut a gash on its right, back leg.

Thorn roared, flipping in mid-air to attack Saphira. This time, the fair-haired passenger pulled a dark object out of her cloak and smiled widely.

For some reason, Eragon shivered. Something was wrong about this woman. But he was forced into action right then, for Saphira and Thorn collided. A claw of Thorn's lashed dangerously close to Eragon's face, and he managed to put a cut in the dragon's leg before it was pulled away.

Suddenly, an intense pain shot through his right arm. But it was not his pain; it was Saphira's. Thorn had a mouthful of her wing and wouldn't let go. One of the bones in her wing snapped, and Eragon cried out.

From Thorn's saddle, the woman fumbled with the dark object in her hand and tossed it at Eragon.

With the pain from Saphira's connection, Eragon was not quick enough to dodge the mysterious object. It hit him square in the face, splattering a strange liquid into his left eye.

Instant pain.

Burning.

Unbelievable agony.

As the flask fell away, the liquid remained in Eragon's eye, dripping down his face and burning all the way.

Seithr Oil.

Eragon screamed, trying to wipe the substance away with his left hand while still holding on to his sword with the right hand. All that did was spread the burning oil onto his hand, causing even more pain. _LAND, SAPHIRA, LAND!_ He choked back a sob, begging for the pain to stop. He could not see anything, for both of his eyes were shut, but he felt Saphira break away from Thorn's deathly grasp and fly erratically away, struggling to stay in the air with a broken wing.

Finally, with a severe _thump,_ Saphira landed, breathing so hard it sounded painful. _Little one, will you be alright?_

Eragon didn't answer, unbuckling himself from the saddle and sliding to the ground. Surprisingly, his boots met stone. He frantically rubbed at his face with his left sleeve, being careful not to touch any flesh to the oil. The burning did not get better; but with the oil mostly mopped up, there was little danger of it spreading to other parts of his body.

He opened his right eye, the one that wasn't burning, and realized where they were.

Dras Leona lay below, now lit by the early rays of the sun. They were on the tallest peak of Helgrind, the mountain of stone.

Thorn alighted on the stone, twenty paces away.

Still not daring to open his left eye, and not knowing if it was possible, Eragon drew his sword.


	35. Betrayal

**Chapter 35**

Nasuada gasped, having watched the battle of the two dragons from the beginning. "What happened? Eragon's dismounted, it looks like." Even with Barzul's sight, she couldn't make out the distant fight very clearly.

 _Did you see the way Saphira was flying?_ Barzul asked frantically. _She's injured badly. We have to help!_

' _We' cannot do anything because there's no way I can get there before Murtagh kills Eragon. And you certainly are not flying over without me!_

Barzul crouched as if ready to spring into the air.

"DON'T GO!" she shouted out loud and mentally.

 _I am going. And you're coming with me. Come quickly!_ Her dragon said. _They didn't give me this saddle for nothing!_

 _But you're…_

 _We haven't tried flying in a while now, have we? Get on!_

Without thinking, Nasuada leapt into the saddle, strapping her legs in and bracing herself for flight. There was no time for doubts.

He hurried to the end of the roof, pausing by the edge to prepare for flight.

Nasuada looked down. It was an awfully long drop. _Maybe this isn't the best setting for a first-_

Barzul leapt from the building.

Murtagh and the mysterious woman dismounted Thorn. The girl maintained a smug smile, brandishing yet another flask of Seithr Oil.

"I expected more of a fight, Eragon," Murtagh taunted. "The 'oh so special' Rebel Rider goes down after only five minutes of fighting. Very pathetic."

The woman snickered. "You cannot catch at all, Rider. The best I was hoping for was a charred hand—but burning your face! HA!" she erupted into cackles.

At last, Eragon realized what was so wrong about this woman. Her eyes, they were a deep shade of red. He backed away, trembling. _One Rider against a Rider and a Shade? This is impossible!_

Suddenly, with a tired flailing of wings, Barzul landed next to Saphira, Nasuada on his back.

Eragon couldn't believe his eyes, or his one uninjured eye.

Nasuada slipped out of the saddle, drawing her sword and moving next to Eragon. "I can get the Shade," she whispered quietly.

He knew why she had chosen the Shade, but he also knew she was better fit to fight Murtagh, even if they had a complicated history. He knew better than anyone the power of a Shade, and did not want Nasuada to be faced with it. Before he could speak his mind though, they attacked.

Neither Rider was allowed to choose their opponent, for Goroth charged straight at Eragon, and Nasuada was left faced with Murtagh, who drew his red blade, grinning faintly.

Thorn leapt into the air, circling around Saphira and coming down to lash out at her, illuminating her scales with flame and knocking her to the ground.

Saphira shrank back, nursing her injured wing.

Barzul came to her side, roaring. This time, his roar truly sounded like that of a mighty dragon.

Nasuada stepped clear of the dragons, eyes never leaving Murtagh. Dread filled her very soul. She did not wish to fight him.

Murtagh matched her every move, circling Nasuada slowly. The dark eyes pierced her soul.

She moved first, choosing one of her most advanced attack routines.

Murtagh blocked every move with such strength it rattled Nasuada's teeth.

Ten paces away, Eragon struggled to duel the Shade while half of his face and his left hand were burning with even more intensity than before. His depth perception was off, having only one eye to see through, and it was hard to keep track of the Shade's attack.

Goroth took advantage of the Rider's weakness, attacking Eragon's left side where he was now blinded by the Seithr Oil.

He managed to sluggishly block the blows, but his strength was faltering. He reached out and retrieved extra energy from the jewels in his belt, stabbing at his fair-haired opponent as best he could.

Thorn came down on Saphira, tearing at her scales fiercely.

Barzul roared again, leaping on the red dragon's back and sinking his teeth into the thick, scaly neck.

Murtagh cried aloud, reaching for his own neck.

Nasuada saw the opening in Murtagh's defenses and took it, thrusting her sword right for the heart of a man she had once loved.

Murtagh managed to knock the sword aside at the last minute, but it still slipped under his armor and put a minor cut in his side.

Nasuada tried every trick she knew, hoping to find a weakness in her opponent's defenses. Yet she found none. Murtagh didn't even appear to be trying. He blocked every blow with ease.

The Shade backed away from Eragon and uncapped the flask in her hand, holding the container up threateningly. "One step closer and you'll get a shower, Dragon Rider!"

Eragon paused, looking in fear at the deadly flask.

The Shade flicked her left wrist towards Eragon, causing the oily liquid to splash out of the flask.

He leapt to the side, dodging the oil by mere inches.

Thorn was trying to shake Barzul off of his back, but the little dragon was persistent, holding on for dear life and sinking his teeth in deeper by the second.

Nasuada felt her whole body go numb for a moment as Thorn rolled over onto his back in an attempt to get Barzul off.

Murtagh darted forward, trying to catch her off guard.

Quickly, Nasuada raised her sword and blocked the blow weakly.

They fought with speed, each blocking the other's blows consistently. Nasuada's connection with Barzul left her weakened, yet she amazingly managed to keep her defenses up, even though she felt her muscles weakening rapidly. It wouldn't be long before she faltered.

Thorn was still unable to get Barzul off his back. He tried rolling; flipping in the air; anything to solve the problem. But nothing worked.

Meanwhile, Saphira was left alone to nurse her wounds. She was bleeding in several different places and walked with a limp.

Goroth again flung the flask about, showering Eragon with Seithr Oil.

He gritted his teeth. The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose and his arm felt like it was on fire.

Goroth swung her blade full-force at him.

A failed attempt at blocking the Shade's blow sent Eragon's sword flying through the air, landing ten paces away.

He froze before his red-eyed opponent.

Goroth smiled, coming closer and laying her blade against Eragon's neck. "The King would want you alive, but I think he'll understand if an accident happens…" She pressed the blade harder, drawing a trickle of blood from his neck.

Suddenly, the Shade's eyes narrowed as she saw something behind Eragon. In the next instant, Saphira's tail whipped around and sent Goroth's sword flying through the air.

Eragon, acting before he could think, quickly did the only thing that could save them at that moment: he used the nearest weapon. In a second, he pried the flask of Seithr oil from the stunned Shade's grasp and shoved it in Goroth's mouth.

The woman's burgundy eyes widened with shock as the oil spread its way down her throat and into her stomach. Stray droplets trickled down her chin, leaving red welts in their path.

"How's it taste?" Eragon murmured, squeezing the bottle so more of the liquid would escape.

The Shade disappeared.

Eragon turned to Saphira. "Thank you!" he said, eyeing Oromis's sword and retrieving it from the stone floor. Through their connection, he could feel Saphira fading. There was not much time.

He turned around to see Nasuada and Murtagh fighting rapidly, Murtagh slowly pushing Nasuada towards the edge of the stone precipice.

A sick feeling went to his stomach. Eragon knew what he had to do—what was best not only for himself, but for all of Alagaesia. He would have to kill his own brother.

Eragon held his sword high and circled around so he was behind Murtagh, then began closing in.

He neared Murtagh's back and prepared to stab, but when he did swing his sword, Murtagh spun around, blocking the blow with speed.

Murtagh glared at his brother through dark, hateful eyes. "You'll be sorry you interfered, Eragon," he muttered, blocking another one of Nasuada's blows and then stabbing at him.

Nasuada and Eragon avoided his attack with difficulty, trying to go for his neck, but Murtagh blocked them.

He backed up, parrying both Nasuada's and Eragon's attacks. His energy was running out and they both knew it.

As if he suddenly realized he was outmatched, Murtagh resorted to a different sort of attack, entering Nasuada's consciousness.

Nasuada gasped in pain, immediately blocking her mind as she had been trained to do since childhood. By the look on Eragon's face, he was likewise being attacked mentally.

She backed away, unable to concentrate on the sword while putting up mental barriers.

Eragon, however, launched himself at Murtagh, fighting in such a fury Nasuada could hardly believe the speed.

The sharp pain in her mind lessened a little, but she did not feel confident enough to rejoin the swordfight, lest Murtagh decided to try harder with the mental attacks.

Saphira limped towards the fight, growling fiercely.

Quite suddenly, Eragon and Murtagh stopped fighting. Eragon dropped his sword and sank to his knees.

Nasuada could see what had happened: Murtagh had finally broken through Eragon's barriers.

Murtagh confined Eragon with magic and laid his sword against his brother's neck. "Drop all defenses and you will not be harmed, Nasuada. You too, Saphira."

They had no choice. Nasuada sobbed silently, letting her guard dwindle away to nothing. Murtagh entered her mind and, knowing she would put up no fight, spoke the words to confine her.

Her sword clattered to the ground as he withdrew entirely from her mind.

Saphira did not move any further, offering no threat to Murtagh, who smiled.

But Murtagh had forgotten about one opponent: Barzul Knurlar, who was currently clamping to Thorn in the air above them.

Nasuada reached out for her dragon's consciousness, though unable to move physically.

Knowing her predicament, Barzul took immediate action, finally letting go of his death grip on Thorn. He dove straight down, Thorn behind him, landing behind Murtagh and preparing to fight.

Murtagh whirled around to face the silver dragon, sword in hand.

Nasuada knew this was the moment; the moment she had to use magic without speaking. She reached into the deepest corners of her mind and pushed fiercely at Murtagh's spell, hoping it would dwindle before Murtagh realized anything was happening.

The magic around her dwindled abruptly, leaving her free of Murtagh's control. He had been careless in forgetting about her once the spell was cast.

She picked her sword up and thrust it into Murtagh's back, whispering shakily, "I'm sorry."

He stumbled forward a step, then turned around to look back at her with a shocked expression on his face before sinking to his knees.

Nasuada shook with sobs, staring at her sword, which was now red with Murtagh's blood. _I've done it… I killed him._ She tossed the sword away, not bothering to hold back the tears.

A roar sounded from above, and Thorn's red form came plummeting down, straight for her.

Nasuada leaped to the side, avoiding the falling dragon by inches. But Thorn wasn't dead yet.

As a last act, the Ruby-colored dragon swung his head around and slammed his Rider's killer into the ground, then went limp himself.

The air left Nasuada's lungs, and then there was darkness.


	36. Final Arrangements

**Chapter 36**

Vanir ran through the deserted streets of the city, the alleys outside of the main part of the battle, clutching his sack tightly. From within, he could feel the hard surface of Saphira's egg.

Arya had flat out ordered him to find a way outside the city and flee, carrying the egg to safety. The battle was not going well, and they would inevitably lose the city very soon.

The sun's rays bathed the city in gold, making it easier for Vanir to get around. He struggled with what would come next. Sneaking out of the city with a dragon egg would not prove very easy considering the fact they were completely surrounded by enemy troops. Transporting the egg was too dangerous—Islanzadi had proved that.

 _Maybe Eragon could fly me and the egg outside the city…_ He immediately decided that was the best idea.

As he reached to contact Eragon, a loud squeak interrupted the silent alley.

Vanir stared down at the sack. Through it, he could feel the egg vibrating. He froze.

It squeaked again, this time louder, and something within the shell shuffled.

He stood still in the deserted street, staring dumbly at the brown sack that held the emerald egg.

The spell binding Eragon died with Murtagh, releasing his muscles. He leaped up, rushing to Nasuada's limp form.

She lay sprawled on the stone, chest rising and lowering irregularly.

He could not see any blood on her armor, which was a good sign, but she had been slammed into the stone rather hard.

Eragon cradled her head in his hands, reaching for her consciousness. He could not contact her mind—she was out of his reach. When he removed his hands, they were covered in blood. A gash in the back of Nasuada's head was bleeding profusely.

Barzul scrambled to his Rider's side, nudging her hesitantly with his nose.

For the first time, Eragon noticed the state of the silver dragon. Open sores from his fight with Thorn nearly covered his body, and blood trickled all down his neck.

"Can you reach her?" Eragon asked the silver dragon frantically. "Is she going to be alright?" His voice cracked and a tear ran down his cheek.

 _She is where even I cannot reach her…_ the dragon's whole body quaked.

 _Nasuada could still feel her body. She sensed a trickle of blood going down the back of her neck, dripping from the gash that had occurred on impact with the stone. Yet there was no pain._

 _In the distance, she heard Eragon's voice, but couldn't make out the words. She felt Barzul's presence and smiled inwardly._

 _She tried to move—to open her eyes- but she found her muscles would not obey her commands._

 _Suddenly, she heard a voice in her mind, as clear as day._

" _Do not be alarmed. I just have a few things to clear up."_

 _Nasuada hesitated, dread running through her veins like liquid fire. "Am I… dead?"_

 _The voice laughed a little. It was a familiar female voice, yet somehow different. She could not place it. "You are not dead, Rider. Far from it. The bump on your head wasn't_ _ **that**_ _bad."_

 _Relieved, Nasuada asked, "Then what is happening? Why can't I wake up?"_

" _Because I am not allowing it."_

 _Now she was really puzzled. "Why are you not allowing it?"_

" _I have knowledge that must be passed on to you before I enter the other realm, for there is no returning once one crosses over."_

" _What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled._

" _You are not dead, but I am." The voice echoed in Nasuada's mind._

" _But who are you? How did you die?"_

" _I was killed in my sleep by one of Galbatorix's assassins. 'Tis a shame they chose to do it that way; I could have put up a very good fight."_

" _Who are you?" she asked again._

" _You know me. I am Elva."_

 _Now she was really confused. "But you were serving Galbatorix."_

" _I am a servant to no one. Now, back to the point, I have some knowledge that may be useful to you. There isn't much time before I cross over, and I don't know what will happen when I do, so let's get along with it!"_

 _Nasuada remained silent, inviting Elva to explain._

" _When people die, their souls do not. If the ridiculous elves have been teaching you otherwise, forget everything they said on the subject of death. The soul is indestructible."_

" _But how do you—"_

" _I'm dead; how do you think I know?"_

 _Nasuada quieted down._

" _Now, when most people die, they go into the other realm, out of which there is no return. I haven't gone there yet, but I feel it tugging at me right now. It feels pleasant… I cannot explain it._

" _As with most rules, there is an exception. Those who sell their soul are forever a slave to evil. Some do it unintentionally, emmersing themselves in evil without knowing their soul is slowly changing allegiance; others find their true name and sell their soul for evil purposes, knowing full well the consequences of their actions. These people do not go to the other realm when they die, but are confined in the Vault of Souls until called upon by a Sorcerer or a Kuthian Master."_

" _What is a Kuthian Master?"_

" _The Master of the rock of Kuthian. Now, as I was saying, they are all confined in the Vault. A sorcerer can call them out one at a time, so long as he can control them. But the Kuthian Master is different. The Kuthian Master is the one who owns the Vault._

" _Now, the Master has only to do one thing to become the Master: he must go to the Vault itself and willingly sell his soul to it. But, the vault only collects on its side of the deal once the Vault Holder is dead. Throughout history, there have been a couple of Kuthian Masters, but they all die eventually, joining the other souls within the Vault._

" _Then there came along Galbatorix. He not only became Master, but he found a way of lending the power of the Vault on to others. He realized that, if he knew the true name of someone, he could protect them from the spirits of the Vault. That way, his Sorcerers could use any spirits they wanted without risking their own necks and becoming Shades._

" _So, he found the true names of all his forsworn and proceeded to give them all a limited amount of souls to do with as they pleased. If they decided to turn on him, he could not only use their true names against them, but he could withdraw the spirits from them."_

 _Nasuada shivered. "Is this what he did to Murtagh?"_

" _Yes. He did not dare speak Murtagh's true name to anyone, even Murtagh, for fear that Murtagh would try to use it and become another Kuthian Master. On that occasion, Galbatorix and he would be forced to duel to the death, lest they live in fear of each other's power forever."_

" _Why are you telling me this?"_

" _Because you have to tell your friend Eragon every word."_

" _Oh."_

" _Now pay attention to what I am saying, Nasuada, because I will only say it once. It is of utmost importance that Eragon finds the Rock of Kuthian. In order to close it forever, he must become a Kuthian Master himself."_

" _What?" she cried in fear. "He must sell his soul to some ROCK? No way am I telling him that!"_

" _You must. Also, tell him there is another way out: after he is master, his soul is technically sold to the Vault. But the Master has control over all the spirits in the Vault. He must offer freedom to every soul within, and every soul who ever reaches its doorway, including his own. They then have a chance to cross into the other realm, like most souls. After he does this, he must close the vault forever. Only a Kuthian Master can do that, and it will take a tremendous amount of energy from him."_

" _Will he have to cross over?" Nasuada asked frantically. "Will he die?"_

 _Elva ignored her question. "Now, I give you the location of the Rock of Kuthian."_

 _An image appeared in Nasuada's mind. It was an aerial view of herself, lying as if dead on the peak of Helgrind with Eragon, Saphira, and Barzul crowded around._

 _Then, her view switched so that she was flying over the treetops in an eastern course towards Uru'baen. The ground flew by so fast it made her dizzy._

 _The next thing she saw was the dark city itself, Galbatorix's castle at the center._

" _Go in this side entrance," Elva instructed, turning the point of view so Nasuada could see a small crevice on the side of the castle. "I have removed his alarm spells from that area and created another entrance Galbatorix knows nothing about; it should still be safe to enter, and don't worry about using magic; I've disabled those alarms without his knowledge as well."_

 _The image moved into the door and through a dark tunnel. The tunnel turned into a labarynth of tunnels, and she moved so quickly through them it made her feel sick._

 _Then, she was in a dark chamber with a large stone at its center._

" _This is it. There is an easier way to reach it, but the entrance is in Galbatorix's strategy room, which he almost never leaves. Be quiet while you're in the chamber, because he will be in the room above you."_

" _How do we…" Nasuada began to say "How do we get out," but she felt Elva fading from her mind._

" _I am being pulled into the other realm, Nasuada. Goodbye. And I'm sorry… for everything…"_

As Elva's voice died away, Eragon's became progressively clearer. "I don't think we can… Wait. I think she's waking up!"

Nasuada's eyes flew open. Above, she could see the faces of Barzul, Saphira, and Eragon, all looking rather relieved. The left side of Eragon's face was so burned she could hardly recognize him. His eyelid was burned shut and it was swelling horribly.

"You're alive!" he breathed, hugging her so tightly it hurt.

"Yeah, I am." She noticed there was no throbbing in the back of her head. "Did you heal me?" she asked, touching her hair.

"Yes—we all did." He smiled at Barzul and Saphira.

Nasuada stood up, bursting to tell him what she had learned, but she was distracted by the appearance of the dragons. "Why'd you waste your energy on me? You all look awful! Eragon… your face…" But she didn't finish, for just then, Nasuada looked past them and layed eyes on the ruby colored dragon, lying limp on the cold stone. "I… I killed him." The memory of her fight with Murtagh brought tears to her eyes.

Eragon looked down awkwardly. "Nasuada, you did the right thing."

She hardly heard him, walking around Thorn's figure and kneeling beside Murtagh's body. Blood ran down his armor, matching his red sword. "He turned around…" she trembled, "and I stabbed him in the back." A void filled her spirit. "What a dishonorable death for a Rider."

Eragon rested his hand on her shoulder. "I swear, Nasuada, if we survive this, I'll have a respectable burial held for Thorn and Murtagh."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Barzul came up to her, breathing heavily. _Nasuada, we must move on. A battle cannot come to a halt because of one death._

 _You are right. There is a time to mourn, and this isn't it._ She stood, looking evenly into Eragon's eyes, so like his brother's. "There is something we must do, but first thing's first: you need healed."

Eragon grimaced, his face distorting even more. "Well, there isn't much that can be done for me, but can you help me heal Saphira and Barzul?"

She looked pityingly at Eragon. His skin was all burned away around his left eye, and streaks of charred flesh ran all the way down his neck where the seithr oil had dripped. By her judgment, he would never be able to open his left eye, much less see through it. "Yes, I'll help you. But we have to take care of your face sooner or later."

"Alright. Let's heal Saphira's wing before we do anything, then we can fly down to the forest and get more energy from the vegetation down there. The battle isn't over yet."

Nasuada nodded, opening her mind and meshing her power with Eragon's. She even drew more energy from the jewels on her sword. Barzul added his own strength, though it was meager, and they all spoke the healing words in the ancient language.

Eragon set the bone in Saphira's wing straight and it meshed into a solid piece once more.

 _That's much better,_ she breathed, stretching. _I'm not perfect, but this will hold me over until we can reach the forest floor._

They all flew down and worked for several minutes, healing the most severe wounds and treating the minor cuts and brouses, all the while taking energy from the vegetation.

By the time they were finished, all the trees and underbrush in sight had wilted.

Nasuada knew that Eragon should be told about the Vault, but she also knew that he would leave right away if she explained the situation to him. Other matters came first. "Eragon, we need to do something about your face. Unless we are sure we've removed all the oil, it will continue eating away."

He glared at her with his one eye. "Yes, but what if we heal the skin _over_ the seithr oil? Then we lose all opportunity of removing it. No, I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt."

She looked at Saphira, raising an eyebrow.

 _He's lying,_ Saphira informed, puffing smoke impatiently. _Eragon, we need Arya's help on this matter. I don't know how to go about healing Seithr wounds, and Nasuada certainly doesn't. Let's find an elf to help._

Eragon gritted his teeth, reluctantly submitting to their rule.

Nasuada and Eragon climbed onto Saphira and flew over the city, Barzul behind them, trying to contact an elf who could help.

Not much time passed before Eragon caught Vanir's consciousness. _Vanir? Are you in the battle?_

 _No. I have to leave the city; the egg must remain safe. It will only be a few hours before the Empire breaks through._

Eragon got Vanir's location and directed Saphira to the innermost parts of the city.

They landed in the street outside an herb shop. No citizens were in sight, for they had all sought shelter in the center of the city.

Vanir came out of a nearby alley, rushing up to Eragon. "I think it's hatching. We must leave."

"Really?" Eragon asked excitedly.

"It's hatching?" Nasuada exclaimed, peering down from Saphira's back at the brown satchel Vanir held.

"Well, it's been making strange sounds for the last ten minutes. Either way, this is no place for a dragon OR a dragon egg. Let's go." Vanir stepped forward, and then paused, finally noticing Eragon. "Shur'tugal… you need that healed." He stared up at the burned flesh.

"Yes. We were hoping you could give some advice on that matter. What can I do to heal Seithr Oil?"

"Seithr?" Vanir raised his eyebrows. "That bad of a wound requires an herb that I do not possess. No ancient words can heal it entirely."

Eragon sighed, starting to speak, but stopped short. His eyes darted across the street where a strange cat was sitting. "Solembum, where's Angela? Can she help me?" He ran to the cat, eyes clouding over as if they were conversing mentally.

Nasuada didn't know what Solembum said, but Eragon's face became suddenly grave. He straightened, looking at his boots.

Angela stepped out of the alley, grinning. "I might have something up my sleeve, but it will only relieve the pain. Nothing can ever remove the hideous scar you will have."

"That'll be fine," Eragon said, still looking unsettled by whatever Solembum had said.

The herbalist pulled a flask off her belt and applied its contents to his wound very delicately, saying, "You Riders do have a habit of getting into trouble, don't you?"

The cool liquid felt like heaven to his face. The burning ceased and he could feel the flesh healing some.

Angela stood back, observing her work. "That ought to do. The skin has even grown back a little, but you'll be lucky if ever your left eye opens again."

"I'm grateful just with this," he said, smiling grimly. "You're the best, Angela."

She grinned. "I know."

Nasuada examined Eragon's wound. It looked more like a half-healed scrape now, though his eyebrow had not grown back and his eyelid was still sealed shut. "Not bad. Let's go."

"Yes, let's go," Vanir said, eyeing his satchel, which was making strange noises.

"Where to?" Eragon asked. "Where would the egg be safe?"

"No!" Nasuada said sternly. "We have to fly to Uru'baen. That's where the Vault of Souls is."

Every eye turned to her.

She breathed deeply, preparing to tell the whole story. "I had a… vision—erm, visitation—after Thorn knocked me out. The vault is in Galbatorix's castle, below his strategy room. I'll explain on the way."

Eragon looked torn between shock and pain. "Why didn't you say so before?" He looked down, apparently undecided, then said, finally, "Let's go there immediately."

"Wait one second," Vanir said, stepping forward.

Nasuada prepared herself for a typical elven lecture on thinking things through before acting on them.

"… if you guys are going to Uru'baen," he continued, "I'm going with you."


	37. The Vault

**Chapter 37**

Saphira flew well above the trees, speeding through the air with the swiftness of an arrow.

Nasuada, stuck between Eragon and Vanir, explained her conversation with Elva to the both of them.

Barzul followed behind them, fighting to keep up with Saphira. Without Nasuada on his back, it was possible, but he still had to strain himself to keep such a rapid pace.

Judging by the speed they were traveling, Uru'baen would be on the horizon in only a few hours.

Behind her, Vanir began shifting in his seat. "It's really hatching now," he called, loud enough to keep the wind from carrying his words away.

Nasuada looked over her shoulder, practically turning around in her seat.

Vanir clutched the bag, which was strapped around his stomach for the flight. "The shell is breaking apart, I can feel it."

She smiled, remembering when Barzul had hatched for her. How long ago it seemed.

Suddenly, the bag shook violently, and a scaly green head poked out of the opening. The little dragon was emerald, just the shade of its shell, with pale blue eyes and white spikes on the crown of her head. The eyes, so big and bright, glistened in the morning light as the dragon tried to escape its satchel.

Vanir smiled ear-to-ear, touching the hatchling's head with his palm.

Back in Dras Leona, hundreds of soldiers broke through the main gate, pouring in like a swarm of bees. The Varden fought hard, trying to resist their attack, but were slowly being pushed back.

Arya, connected consciously to all of her elven comrades, felt another three elves fall into the void of death. They were losing. Only twelve of her kin were still alive, and two out of those twelve were severely wounded.

She gazed out over the battlefield. The stench of death; the sound of metal swords and axes to armor; the screams of dying soldiers; it all made her feel sick.

 _This is suicide._ She grimaced as another member of Du Vrangr Gata slipped from her consciousness, yielding to death. Soldiers of the Varden; proud, brave men who had done no one wrong, were being slaughtered mercilessly below.

 _I cannot let this continue,_ she thought desperately. _We can surrender. Perhaps some lives will be spared…_

A mighty horn rang out over the battlefield, drowning all other sounds.

Arya jerked her head around, searching for the source of the battle horn. Why did that horn sound so familiar?

Something massive was moving through the trees in the distance.

She squinted, trying to see through the leaves.

Suddenly, a multitude of abnormally short warriors burst from the thicket, charging the Empire's army with ferocity.

Arya let out a hoot, though it was uncharacteristic for her, and jumped into the air. "THE DWARVES! THE DWARVES ARE HERE!"

A cheer went up in the crowd of rebel soldiers. Their hope was renewed.

Having had the whole trip to discuss their plan, the party was quite prepared when they caught sight of Uru'baen.

Saphira and Barzul landed immediately, continuing to the city wall on foot, as not to be spotted in the air.

From the wall, the Riders were to make their way as inconspicuously as possible to the center of the city, where they would sneak into the castle via Elva's secret entrance. The dragons were to remain connected just in case the party was discovered, ready to rush in at any given moment.

No one in Uru'baen took a second glance at the small traveling group; there was nothing unusual about three strangers wearing hooded cloaks that concealed their faces. The dark city was not a place where such attire was thought poorly of.

No one took notice at all as the three strangers mysteriously loitered around the gigantic wall of Galbatorix's fortress until no one was watching and then used a spell to make the patrol guards fall asleep and move the stones so they could climb up.

Who was to know that the three hooded strangers were all Riders of the Varden, there to end years of conflict between the Empire and freedom?

Nasuada hurried across the clearing between Galbatorix's security wall and his castle, Eragon and Vanir close behind.

"That was too easy," Vanir whispered, still clutching his satchel tightly. Eragon and Nasuada hadn't been able to convince him to leave his dragon behind, where she would be much safer. The elf was far too protective of his dragon already to leave it alone.

"I told you," Nasuada said, rolling her eyes. "Elva removed the spells that Galbatorix has warning him of magic around his castle. Also, it helps that he sent ninety percent of his guard to Dras Leona."

He pursed his lips, gripping his sword tightly. "Still, it doesn't feel right."

She noticed he was holding his sword with his right hand—the same hand with the gedwey ignasia. "I thought you were supposed to touch a hatchling with your left hand so you can use magic with your left while fighting with your right."

The elf scowled. "Well, that's the last thing I was thinking about while on Saphira. And besides, I can fight with either one of my hands."

"Oh, that's great for you," she scoffed.

"Can we stop arguing?" Eragon asked. "We're kind of in the open, and anyone can come by any moment."

Nasuada turned around, scanning the wall. "I think I recognize that servant's entrance… the tunnel isn't far from there." She strode over to the door and looked past it to a notch in the castle wall, no doubt where a small garden used to be.

Recognizing the surroundings, she walked to the notch and grinned. There, close to the ground and amongst dried up shrubberies, was the secret entrance Elva had made. "Come here, guys."

Eragon and Vanir came up behind her and examined the opening.

"'Looks like the rock has been moved away using magic, alright," Eragon said.

"There's no way to tell for sure," Vanir said, "I mean, how can you tell with your _one eye_?"

"My one eye, huh?" Eragon scowled, which just made his scar more gruesome.

"Yes. The opening could have been made by anyone, though it was likely formed by magic, for such a project would take many years without it…"

"Boys!" Nasuada exclaimed. "Are we going or not? You've followed me this far; you can't back out now."

They grudgingly followed her into the hole, each wondering silently if it was a trap.

She led them through the tunnels, lighting the way with magic. Whenever her memory failed her, Barzul was able to bring the proper information to the surface of her mind. They turned so many times she could hardly keep track of direction. In only a few moments, she lost her sense of which way was north. Scarcely did the thought 'C _an I find my way out of here?'_ cross her mind; and when it did, she pushed it away, knowing there was no room for doubt. It was too late to turn back.

Eragon followed Nasuada silently, going over Solembum's words in his head. They haunted his every step, making it harder and harder to keep going. But he had to. There was no other choice.

He hid his thoughts even from Saphira, not wanting her to interfere—which she undoubtedly would do if she knew.

Instead of lingering on such thoughts, he concentrated wholly on Nasuada's figure in front of him.

She glanced back to make sure they were following, giving a brief, nervous smile.

How beautiful she was, right at that moment. Eragon wondered if he would ever get a chance to tell her how pretty she was.

Nasuada stopped abruptly, signaling a halt. They were at a sharp curve in the tunnel, and she carefully peered around the corner. "We're here," she whispered, straightening.

He and Vanir followed her around the corner and into a circular room. The walls were smooth with strange engravings etched into the stone. Illustrations of death and sorcery littered the walls. At the room's center was a boulder the size of a horse. Nothing about it was unnatural—it looked like an ordinary rock.

"That's it?" he asked, stepping forward.

"Yes, it is," said an unfamiliar voice from beside him.

Eragon whirled around, drawing Oromis's sword.

"and you can't use it," Galbatorix finished, drawing a sword of his own.

Nasuada and Vanir were at Eragon's side in a second, both prepared to fight.

"How did you know?" Eragon asked.

"I was scrying Murtagh when you killed him," the King replied, chuckling. "It wasn't difficult to scry the land as you approached Uru'baen, though I'm surprised you were bold enough to do so."

Eragon looked at Nasuada, then Vanir. Why wasn't Galbatorix attacking?

"I answered your question; you answer mine: how on earth did you find out my secret, that the rock of Kuthian is my source of power? I'd certainly like to know who told you so I can kill them. I destroyed all who were familiar with the tale."

Nasuada beat Eragon in answering. "A mutual friend informed us. Someone you had murdered."

The King's eye twitched. "Who?"

"Elva."

"That's impossible. I told her nothing." He didn't look very re-assured.

"You know Elva was not restricted in the same ways most magic users are. She had a way of knowing things."

He grimaced. "Well, she's been taken care of. Now, I am glad you all have shown up; all of the surviving Riders in one room." He breathed deeply. "Now, I realize you intend to feed off the same source of energy as I, but I'm afraid you cannot do that. Only I, in all my omnipotence, can control the rock. Luckily for you, I am willing to lend you some of it if you surrender..."

"You can't," Eragon blurted, "not unless you know our true names."

Galbatorix, looking surprised and infuriated by Eragon's words, shook with anger. "I see you've done your homework, Shadeslayer, but that doesn't improve your situation. I am the Kuthian Master, and only I can control the rock of Kuthian. With an elf present, I'm sure I will find your true names soon enough."

Eragon decided not to contradict him even though he knew there could be two Kuthian Masters at once. "Well, just to save your breath, Galbatorix: no, we won't join you. We don't want any of the power from the rock, and we're not interested in telling you our true names."

"What if we choose to kill those closest to you?" a female voice said.

Goroth appeared next to Vanir and held her sword up to the satchel in which he was carrying his dragon hatchling.

Vanir froze, eyes darting towards Eragon and then back. In a flash, he had brough his sword around and pushed Goroth's blade away from his bag. The Shade launched a furious attack at Vanir, and just like that, they were all fighting.

Eragon thrust his sword for Galbatorix, moving with speed.

The King struggled to block every blow, knowing he was fully outmatched when it came to swordsmanship.

Nasuada moved in next to Eragon, putting in a blow or two when it was safe.

Eragon dodged a swing of Galbatorix's sword and went for the Rider's chest, only to be blocked. His next try for the worthy opponent's heart just nicked the King's left arm.

Infuriated, Galbatorix shouted, "JIERDA!"

Eragon felt himself fly back through the air with such force his body did not stop until it hit the opposite wall. He reached for magic, preparing to launch a spell for the King, but Nasuada reached his mind first. _Don't do it, Eragon. Go to the vault. I can hold him off for a few minutes._

He couldn't move his body, but if he could, he would have leapt to Nasuada's aid. _She can't handle Galbatorix. What is she thinking?_

Across the room, Vanir and Goroth were eyeball deep in a swordfight like no one had ever seen. Each was wholly concentrated on breaking through the other's defenses. Neither seemed to slow in the least.

Nasuada backed away from Galbatorix, knowing what she had to do. Her mental defenses were first class, she knew that much. She had been trained to block her mind since the cradle. At Helgrind, Murtagh had broken through Eragon's mind, not hers. Mental barriers were her strong point. Blocking another of the King's blows, she prodded his mind boldly and then retreated, putting up all of her defenses.

He paused, appearing mildly amused. "I know you're a girl, but I didn't think you were that stupid. Mental attack is my preferred method of killing. I'm not going to kill you though; you'll give in quite easily after your friends are dead." With that, he pressed against her mind, testing her barriers.

Nasuada was overwhelmed with the power he demonstrated. She bit her lip, calling for Barzul's assistance. He quickly helped reinforce her defenses, but wasn't able to do much. He and Saphira were concentrated on flying towards the castle, preparing to fight Shruikan.

Eragon, across the room, realized what Saphira and Barzul were up to. _No!_ he called. _You cannot help us because we're underground. There is no need to fight Shruikan._

Saphira acknowledged his comment, saying, _If we harm Shruikan, we harm Galbatorix. It's the only way we can help._

 _Yes, but if he harms you, he harms me. And what about Barzul? You're letting him go up against the most powerful dragon alive?_

 _It was his idea; I couldn't leave him behind. And besides, I'm going to withdraw from your mind so you won't feel it if I'm injured. We'll be completely separated._

 _No, Saphira!_ He said, but she was already withdrawing from his consciousness.

 _Go to the vault,_ she said, her voice fading away.

Eragon shifted on the stone floor, pulling himself to a standing position. Instantly, all the blood rushed to his head and his vision began darkening. He wavered, leaning against the wall for support. _I must speak my name at the rock and open the vault of souls—I must sell my soul._

He staggered to the rock, putting his hands on it. Then, he spoke in the ancient language. "I am Yawe Edoc'sil. I offer you my soul."


	38. Two Broken Pieces

**Chapter 38**

The floor to his left opened into a stairway leading to a dark void. He stepped down the first step and paused, looking back at the battle.

"NO!" Galbatorix shouted, running towards Eragon with his sword held high.

Vanir and Goroth were just as before, both fighting so fast it was hard to keep track.

Eragon contacted Vanir with his mind, knowing that the elf was the most likely person in the room to hold Galbatorix off. _Keep him from following me, Vanir. Please!_

The elf abruptly spun away from Goroth, swinging for the King as he passed by. Soon, he was in a fight with both the Shade and the King of Alagaesia.

Eragon turned away, climbing down the steps as quickly as possible. It was dark. Too dark. He could not see a thing. Everything was cold. His whole body was chilled. As he reached the last step, he looked up just in time to see the entrance close. _I wonder if it will open back up for me,_ he thought. _But enough of that—I came here for a reason._

Voices suddenly filled his mind—pleading for freedom. Frantic, desparating cries for help.

He shook his head to relieve the pain that was suddenly in his mind. "Stop… please stop!" he said.

Immediately, the voices ceased. But he could still feel the presence of many souls—thousands of them, all full of hate and despair.

 _I'm a Kuthian Master now… they must obey my commands._ Eragon stood up straight, sorting out a few words to say in the ancient language. Through Nasuada's interpretation of Elva's words, he knew what he had to do. "As the Kuthian Master, I hereby declare that all who are in this vault, and all who reach its gates from this moment on, will be given a chance to change their heart—to cross into the other realm."

A sudden roar filled the dark chamber, rattling his bones. Cries of joy erupted from the prisoners of the Vault. Rapidly, he could feel many souls fading away, already taking him up on that offer.

As the roar grew louder, Eragon was forced to clap his hands over his ears. He sank to his knees, hoping it would stop.

In the chamber, Vanir felt the floor shake and heard the roar. He paused, fighting to keep his footing as the stone trembled furiously.

Goroth, trying to catch him off guard, suddenly lashed out at him.

Vanir blocked her blow with difficulty, stepping back.

"NO!" Galbatorix shouted, looking over at the vault. He turned to Vanir furiously, thrusting his sword right for the satchel at the elf's side.

Vanir blocked the blow frantically, fighting to keep up with both of his opponents.

Goroth let out all of her fury, charging at him full force while Galbatorix persisted with his attack on the satchel where he knew the dragon hatchling was held.

Eragon regained his composure as the roar faded away. He reached out and was surprised to find that there were still souls within the vault with him. "Why are you here?" he asked in the ancient language.

The voices, as one, answered reluctantly, as if forced, "We are not fit for the other realm. You may set the rules here, but not there."

He hesitated, realizing what that meant. _Of course the other realm has no place for those who are still evil to the core… that means Galbatorix still has souls within this vault he can use. I have to make the door one-way so that no one can use it—so that no spirits can escape into the world and cause havoc._

Above, Vanir still fought with Goroth and the King, managing to keep up with their attack.

Finally, Galbatorix got fed up with the swordfight. He tossed his sword away, pointing his hand at Vanir's satchel and speaking one of the words of death.

Immediately, Vanir felt the consciousness of his dear little hatchling fade from his mind. He cried out, dropping his sword and sinking to his knees.

Goroth stood back, looking quite amused as Vanir opened his satchel and took out the limp little body that used to be his baby dragon.

Vanir clutched the hatchling to his chest, begging to wake up and find out it was all a dream. But he did not wake up. The emerald little dragon made no acknowledgement of his calls. It remained still.

He laid it carefully back on the stone floor and looked up at his opponents. "You have defeated me," he whispered.

"Not me," Nasuada said from right behind Goroth. With that, she drove her sword through the Shade's back and into her heart.

Goroth's eyes widened with shock as the life faded from her body.

And then there was pain. Nasuada felt Galbatorix pry into her mind, much harder than before. His fury was unbelievable.

She put up her very best barriers, but they would not last long. _Vanir…_ she called with her mind, careful not to let her guard slip.

He was still kneeling over his dragon, face frozen in an expression of devastating grief.

 _Vanir, please help. As an elf, you're the only one who can stand strong against his mental attacks._ She felt her defenses slipping. _Please! For the Varden—for your dragon._

He looked up and their eyes locked. Vanir nodded, standing up slowly and glaring at the King.

The elf must have attacked Galbatorix mentally, for the pressure in Nasuada's mind lessened some, and the King turned to face Vanir.

Man and elf stood five paces apart, each concentrating so hard on the mental battle that sweat began dripping from their brows.

Nasuada staggered backwards, heaving from the effort of keeping the King out of her mind. _Where is Eragon?_ She felt her hands brush up against the rock of Kuthian and turned around.

The stairway was open once more, Eragon climbing out of the depths of the vault.

"You're alive!" Nasuada breathed, flinging her arms around his neck.

Eragon held her to him for just a second before breaking away. "Nasuada… I… Well, the next step is closing the door, but the spell requires that…" He looked away, noticing the surroundings.

"What is it?" she asked, "If it takes too much energy, I'll help."

"Saphira's hatchling," he whispered, eyeing the emerald dragon. But his eyes were not filled with sorrow so much as revelation. "I understand it now…"

Solembum's words from Dras Leona came flying back to Eragon's memory. _As the end draws near, you will be forced to close a door that shall never again be opened. It will consume you. In order to save the dragons, you will have no choice but to allow another to grow close with Saphira. It is the only way they both can survive with such grief._

"You understand what?" Nasuada asked, frustrated.

Eragon turned to her, gripping Nasuada by the shoulders. "There is no time. I have to close it, but if something happens to me, I want you to—"

"But what is going to happen to you?" she asked, fear showing in her eyes.

"Just… just tell Vanir that the only way they can survive is if they bond with one another." He took a long look into Nasuada's eyes, realizing that it would be the last one.

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "Eragon, what are you hiding?"

A lump rose in his throat and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Suddenly, he could hardly keep himself from crying. Memories of his childhood came back; images of himself and Roran as children. _I'll never see him again. I won't live to be an uncle, nor will I be a father myself…_ but what hit Eragon most was the fact that he would never see Saphira—never feel her consciousness brush his.

Tears filled his eyes. He swallowed hard, saying shakily, "Tell Saphira I love her, okay? I fully expect her and Barzul to have many more hunting trips together. And, Nasuada, I love you."

Without waiting to see her reaction, Eragon turned to the rock of Kuthian, thinking, _If I don't do it now, I might never get the courage._ Forcing every word out of his mouth before he could think, he murmured in the Ancient Language, "May no evil escape this vault."

The rock of Kuthian began shaking violently, and Eragon felt his energy dwindling.

"NO!" Nasuada cried, rushing to him.

Eragon sank to the floor, vision fading quickly.

The last thing he heard was Nasuada's voice, crying, "Don't leave me!"

He heard no more.

Vanir suddenly felt Galbatorix's defenses grow drastically weaker. Also, the attack from the King's mind was suddenly nonexistent.

Galbatorix cried out, looking towards the Kuthian rock.

It shook back and forth rapidly. Then, quite suddenly, it broke in half.

The elf renewed his efforts to break into the King's mind, trying so hard his whole body trembled.

Galbatorix reinforced his defenses, making them a little stronger, but nothing compared to before.

Vanir attacked with vengeance. This was the man who killed his dragon before it was three hours old.

Abruptly, the King cringed, his barriers weakening just enough.

The elf broke into his opponent's mind. He found the reason for Galbatorix's sudden weakness: Shruikan was injured in his fight with Saphira.

As was appropriate for a "wizard's" duel, Galbatorix reached for magic, attempting to blind Vanir with a flash of light.

Vanir, knowing the King's intentions before he acted, parried with a spell of darkness. He then sent a ball of flame straight for Galbatorix's eyes.

The King quenched the flame with a shower of water and dirt, but not before Vanir had his next move ready.

As swiftly as possible, Vanir used magic to levitate Galbatorix's sword in the air and drive it between his ribs.

Nasuada sobbed, tears running down her face. She knelt next to Eragon, touching his cheek. Every part of her still had hope that he would recover from the spell and wake up. She reached for his consciousness frantically, trying to pick up the faintest sign of life.

Nothing.

"But why?" she sobbed, "First Father, then Murtagh, now you!"

Vanir stumbled to the opposite side of Eragon, kneeling by his fellow Rider's body. Sweat drenched his hair, and he breathed in short rasps. "He died closing it?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Se mor'ranr ono finna, Shur'tugal. He has saved us all."

Barzul's consciousness reached for Nasuada's.

She leeched to his connection, glad for the comfort of his mind.

 _You've done it!_ He said. _Shruikan just fell!... Nasuada, what has happened?_

Nasuada started to explain, but Barzul broke in.

 _There's something wrong with Saphira!_ Concern ran through their link. _She's fallen to the roof of the castle…_

Vanir felt Saphira's mind, weak as it was, reach frantically for any life form in the rock chamber. _Where is he? What happened?_

He felt a wave of emotion coming from Saphira. It was not an unfamiliar sensation to feel the pain of losing a close companion. She felt just as he did at that moment. A piece of himself seemed to have vanished forever.

 _Saphira Bjartskular, do not despair. Your Rider has made it possible for peace to reign in Alagaesia. I will have you two appropriately honored, vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal._

"Vanir," Nasuada said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, "you have to contact Saphira. She's reaching for her Rider. You two can fill each other's weaknesses."

Vanir grimaced. "Bond to another man's dragon? That would be… sick. Like I was betraying a fellow Rider. Only Galbatorix was that demented."

"It was Eragon's final wish," she whispered quietly, looking back down at Eragon's body and choking back a sob. "The line of dragons must go on." Silently, she reached for Saphira. Already, the dragon's mind was fading. _Don't give up, Saphira. Eragon wished for you and Vanir to live._

 _I don't know if I want to,_ the dragon said faintly.

 _Think of Barzul, Saphira! He couldn't live without you!_

 _Barzul Knurlar…_ Saphira's mind sparked a little at the name. _Someone has to complete his training…_


	39. New Beginnings

**Chapter 39**

"You think they're ever coming back?" Orik asked.

The lines on Arya's forehead grew deeper. "I do not know. They just flew away during the battle. No one noticed for a while; we were all distracted by Jormundor's death. I had supposed Eragon was transporting the egg, but this has taken far too long. We must prepare as if they will never return."

The Dwarf King nodded in agreement. "I assume they will attack again with full force at sunrise. The cease-fire will not last long."

"Do we have men reinforcing the gate?" she asked, pacing back and forth.

"Yes. My warriors are there too, making sure the Empire doesn't try to surprise us. We were lucky to drive them out today."

She sighed, looking out over the city. They were on the roof of the palace, viewing the movements of the Empire from afar. "Even with your reinforcements, we are little more than half of the size we should be. Now, with both sides Riderless, it will be hard to intimidate the enemy troops…" She pondered the idea, trying to devise a plan of action for the following morning.

Arya's thoughts were interrupted by a beat of wings. Barzul emerged from the darkness of night and landed next to the Elf, bowing his head in respect.

"Barzul Knurlar, what has happened? Where is Eragon?"

The silver dragon just looked to the sky as Saphira landed very scantily on the stone shingles, Nasuada and Vanir strapped to her saddle. A sling made from cloaks was gripped between her claws, hiding a heavy looking form which she set down with care.

"Vanir…" Arya breathed, "what has happened? Did you hide the egg?"

He slid from the saddle, staggering a little when his feet hit the roof. "The egg is destroyed; along with Galbatorix."

She froze, too stunned to speak. _If this is true, why does he look so sorrowful?_

"Where is Eragon?" Orik asked, noticing the Rider's absence.

"Dead." He nodded towards the sling Saphira was now unfolding. Below the cloaks was Eragon's limp form.

Arya couldn't speak. She reached for Vanir with her mind. Grief of the purest kind filled his very soul. She wondered how he could live with such pain. But there was something else… a bit of compassion and a hint of friendship. _What has happened? How is Saphira still…?_

 _Nasuada can explain. Saphira and I need time to heal ourselves. The memories will only make it worse._

Felling his pain, Arya rested a hand on Vanir's shoulder.

He brushed past her before stumbling to the window and climbing into the castle.

Saphira, allowing Nasuada to remove her saddle first, pulled herself to the opposite side of the roof, looking rather defeated.

"I am sorry," Nasuada said, biting her lip "it was a long trip back." She strode to Barzul's side and untied a brown sack from his saddle, tossing it to Arya.

Arya caught it. She could feel a heavy lump inside. "What is it?" she asked, unable to see clearly enough to check.

"Galbatorix's head."

At dawn, a group of messengers carrying a white flag strode across the land between Dras Leona and the camping soldiers. They carried a brown sack with them.

In minutes, the movement in the camp became more frenzied. Soldiers rushed from one tent to another, whispering hurriedly. Many began taking down their tents, packing up their gear for surrender.

Arguments broke out between commanders and their soldiers, but even the commanders looked rather nervous when they noticed a sapphire dragon on the roof of the Palace.

Cooking fires were abruptly put out and the sound of clinking metal rang throughout the camp.

Meanwhile, behind the city walls, people celebrated the King's death in the street. The owner of a local inn posted a banner across his doorway. It read: FREE DRINKS—THE KING IS DEAD!

Though soldiers still patrolled the wall, they were all conversing cheerfully; a few even broke out into song.

The melody reached Vanir on top of the palace. He shifted, shielding his eyes from the rising sun.

Saphira lay next to him, curled into a ball.

 _Do you think they realize what Eragon did?_ He asked.

 _No. No one will ever fully understand his sacrifice._

 _But they will remember it. I promised I would honor him, Saphira—I swore in the ancient language. Eragon will be buried in an honorable place for all to see. The tale of Shadeslayer and his mighty dragon, Saphira Brightscales, will be told for all time._

Saphira heaved a sigh. _Thank you, Vanir. I will hold you to that promise._

He touched her azure scales tentatively, still knowing full well that he could never replace Eragon in her life, just as she would never fully make him forget the little hatchling that had shared his mind for only a brief time. But they would comfort one another in their grief. Maybe eventually, they would grow to feel happiness despite the pain.

 **Epilogue**

 **Three weeks later**

The people of Alagaesia mourned the death of Eragon Shadeslayer. His body, preserved by magic, had been present for several ceremonies across the empire. It was to leave for its final resting place, where a public service would be held. A tomb like no other had been constructed on Vroengard, just outside Doru Araeba: ancestral home of the Riders. It was rumored that the now-repaired star sapphire, Isidar Mithrim itself, had been placed by his grave.

Nasuada breathed deeply, preparing to board the boat that would carry Eragon's body to the island. The moon cast a silver glow over the waters, calming her spirit.

Barzul, flying in the air above her, reported that they should be leaving soon. They were at the Jiet River, on the border between Surda and Alagaesia.

Elves and men alike stood on the shore, ready to leave. One in particular caught Nasuada's eye. It was Roran, looking rather pale.

She strode up to him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I understand why you can't come—don't feel sorry."

He swallowed hard, opening his mouth for a moment and then closing it, unable to speak.

"Eragon would not want you to leave your expecting wife behind for his burial. He is at peace whether you go to Vroengard or not."

Roran nodded mutely. "Thanks."

She smiled weakly at him, turning to board the small ship.

Behind her came the elves and men who had been given the honor to transport Eragon's body. And, last of all, came Vanir and the Elf Queen, Arya Drottning.

Nasuada looked up into the sky as Saphira flew overhead, meandering softly over the land. The dragon had done a lot of healing in the past two weeks—though the emptiness where Eragon used to be would never quite be filled.

Arya and Vanir, arm-in-arm, boarded the ship and looked to the south. Vanir gave the signal and they began moving downstream.

Roran, standing alone on the shore, threw back his head and cried aloud, grieving for the loss of his cousin.

Nasuada looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't felt so sad since Murtagh and Thorn's private funeral ceremony back in Dras Leona. It was hard to believe that Eragon was no more—especially with Saphira still around.

 _Remember, Nasuada, this is the beginning of a new era,_ Barzul reminded her, _We will rebuild Doru Araeba and help the new King—whoever they appoint—restore peace._

She nodded, glancing over at Vanir and Arya. For the first time since the emerald hatchling's death, a faint smile was on Vanir's face. He and Arya held hands, each looking straight ahead.

 _Maybe I should look ahead, too,_ she thought.

 _Exactly,_ Barzul chimed, he and Saphira rising in the air together.

 _You know, Barzul, this might be the beginning of other things, too,_ she added slyly, feeling his affection for Saphira. _A new era of Dragons and Riders…_

 _Maybe,_ he said lightly, doing a loop in the air just to show off.

She smiled.

There was a new feel to Alagaesia. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the air smelled cleaner and the water looked purer—everything was fresh and ready for a new start.


End file.
